A/N: Long time no see folks. I've set myself a goal to finish one of my fics at least by Xmas, and chance fell upon this one. Let's see if I can get the insane update schedule going again!

Chapter Twenty Five: Fated

"Well...that's about it," finished the boy, eyes downcast. He should have known. He should have bloody known that Dean would find a way to get back at him. That interfering, overpowered, deus ex machina of a man couldn't stop himself from meddling in the affairs of others.

Mana had already left him, assured he wouldn't be attempting any escapes. The girl in front of him shook her head, almost as if in resignation.

"According to you, Fate exists. If that's true, then this turn of events shouldn't be too surprising, de gozaru" replied the kunoichi. She of course knew exactly how ironic this situation was, especially for Luke. "So...couch?" she ventured, standing aside and letting the boy into her dorm.

The blonde nodded and stepped past her, his cloak swishing slightly with the movement, and he collapsed gratefully into its cushy embrace. He seemed to bounce on it for a moment before smiling. It was like running into a good friend one hadn't seen in a long time. Without a word he spun about and lay down on the couch, resting his head against his arms as his legs dangled over the side. Luke sighed contentedly.

"Make yourself at home, de gozaru," added Kaede, smiling as Luke colored as he realized his impertinence, springing up from the couch and bowing apologetically. She waved off his apology good humour, indicating he should lie back down. The boy did so dubiously, keeping a single brown eye trained on her. "I suppose this does feel very much like a homecoming for you."

Luke smiled. "Yes I suppose it does. There were some good times here..."

Kaede raised an eyebrow at him, her gaze flickering to the hastily plastered tear in her ceiling where the boy's sword had stabbed into the circuitry of the magnet the twins had installed with Hakase's help. Then her attention turned to the small shelf above the door where the pink dye had been located. None of the inhabitants of the room had bothered removing it after the incident. Of course, there were always the memories of what had happened here in the other time, but that was Luke's business. She just had to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn't try to leave the academy until the time of the hearing. Up to that time, she was confident in dealing with the teenager should a need arise. Though he had his own code of honor which he seemed to stick to, which meant she could trust him to a certain degree – trust him to act in a predictable manner of course.

And if he stepped out of line, she'd just let the twins have their way with him. Something he would undoubtedly dread. The ninja smiled as she left the boy to his pondering, deciding to check what was available for dinner.

Luke meanwhile sighed as he stared straight up at the celing. This wouldn't do. Fate had seen he wouldn't be confinced by Her plans, so instead she resorted to taunting him. He could almost hear Darkside gloating.

See, see where you are? The same can happen as last time, if only you act accordingly...

He forced the thought from his mind. What had happened had happened, it wouldn't repeat itself. No matter whether he wanted it to or not. His hand strayed into his shirt, rummaging in the inner pocket until he felt his fingers close around something folded. He withdrew his hand, the item discretly held in his palm, where no one would be able to notice it. Luke glanced at it as he gently opened it up, suppressing a chuckle at the fond memories attached to it. It was the photo he had so long ago and yet never taken from Kotaro. The one of him and Kaede. Life in Mahora had been...good, he had to admit. Though such thoughts invariable brought his mind back round to how it had all ended. Clockwork, in his typical deviousness, had rigged the watch to only open under special circumstances – namely, those of intimacy. Only once he had begun to accept the fact that he had no past, and started looking into the future, that the visions, the memories, had started haunting him.

Beautifully ironic, discovering that which you sought all this time was in fact the very thing you sought to escape from. But Clockwork was dead now, as was Ezekyle. Or was it Ezekiel? The thing itself no longer had known the proper pronunciation of its name. He closed his eyes. Of course, it wasn't just Eze..whatever. Lucius and Mina. Muse and Maiden. Seeker. Chaplain. The Corsiars were still alive in this time line. Somewhere in Russia, they were still searching of him, biding their time to strike. Abandoned.

No, Clockwork had abandoned them, not Luke. He was under no obligation to them. None whatsoever...

Family...

"What's that de gozaru?" asked his new roommate, plucking the photo from his slack grip. A simple gesture, one she easily accomplished thanks to her training, something he should have suspected. But his mind had wandered, and all the blood drained from his face as she looked at the photo. If he stayed, he was dead. If he tried to flee, he was dead. He had a cloak filled with enough tricks and devices to level Mahora if need be.

The silence continued for a while, Luke refusing to bat an eyelid, feeling perspiration form on his forehead. The photo suddenly dropped onto his chest, and he heard the door shut. Blinking in surprise, he quickly pocketed the item and stared at where Miss Nagase had walked out of the dormitory, for her own unfathomable reasons.

Complication after complication. This was bound to end badly. Luke sat up on the couch and cradled his head in his hands. He prayed for the trial to come quickly. Life as an ermine would be nothing compared to this, he was sure.

Fate folded up his newspaper, gently reaching forwards and lifting his cup, bringing it close to his face, savoring the rich smell of the tea. He closed his eyes, at peace with himself, letting the sounds of the bustling city all around him fade away, blend together into one simply symphony which gently caressed his senses. The pale boy sipped his drink, nodding to himself as he appreciated the taste. He softly placed the cup back onto its saucer with a silent clink, before looking around, his face an expressionless mask.

People were coming and going, preoccupied with their own little lives. Men, women, children...it made no difference. They were all so ignorant. Of the world, of their own potential. They had such potential, and squandered it on greed and vanity. Fate closed his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. He had sent his partners out to enjoy themselves, suitable disguised of course. It was there first time in a mundane city, so it was only fair to let them explore a bit. And if they got into trouble, he was confident in their abilities.

Fate Tertium was not a cold and cruel person as many expected. Life wasn't nearly so black and white. He had taken the girls in after the last war, cared for them and raised them. True he had his own motives, but the fact remained that he had for all intents and purposes, saved those girls' lives and made them into some of the most skilled mages in the world. And he could have easily pulled of all of his schemes on his own or with the aid of mercenaries – it would have been a lot easier in some cases actually. But instead he had his own team, those he had trained. If he had been capable of feeling emotion like a normal human, he would would have admitted to being proud of the girls who essentially passed for his daughters.

He took another sip of his tea. Time was running out. Soon he would strike at the tree, and he would fulfill his purpose. Just as Fate had decreed, this Fate would perform.

The girl was asleep, resting her head on his shoulder. Idly he plucked at his guitar, the lonely melody echoing around the white chamber. He didn't know what he was playing, it just came to him and his hands manipulated the instrument. The music seemed to float around the pair, soothing them and warding away dark thoughts. The little girl smiled and murmured something, lost in a dream. Her red coat was wrapped tightly around her body, warding off the cold.

He couldn't help but smile at her peaceful face. She was a reminder of everything he had lost. That the three of them had lost. Innocence. The tune he was playing took on a more sorrowful tone, the lights in the chamber dimming as the waves of sound rolled over them. His first kill had been at the age of ten. It was a forced Darwinian exercise. Kill or be killed. They were pitted against the Reavers. He'd found the twins, Zhara and Nikola, first. Or had they found him? He couldn't remember the details. What he did remember was their looks of pains as he played furiously on his guitar, the music tearing apart their hearing, the pounding notes shaking their bones until they began to crack. He had been riding a wave of adrenaline, and lost track of time. He played a full song before stopping, panting heavily. The two girls in front of him had died a long time ago, crumpling to the floor, nothing more than bags of flesh holding in the soup that he had turned their innards into.

A normal person would have felt disgust at their action. He felt disgust at not feeling disgust at his actions. He'd been made well. Just like a fine Saracen sword. Yes, he was the sword, the girl the knife, the dragon the hammer and the other...he had been a katana. Finely made, based on knowledge acquired thanks to the effort that had gone before. A Murasame. Or was it a Masemune? He always got the two mixed up. The music he was forging shifted again, becoming a soothing melody once more, quelling his thoughts. The youth let his head rest on top of the girl's as he continued playing. She hadn't killed yet. He knew she would have to eventually, but out of all of them, she was the closest to leading a normal life. And he would give it to her if he could, his precious little sister.