You're Mine

Summary: AU "Just remember that you're mine." It begins with those words, but rapidly becomes something deeper and far more complicated than a mere promise to get back the boy of her dreams...YohxAnnaxHaoxTamao.

Disclaimer: I own all the hearts of the Shaman King characters. No, seriously; they're floating around in little jars in my room. –smile-

Author's Note: I've updated at last! Gah… I've been grounded still more now. ;.; Which means that updates will be coming still more slowly than ever. My fervent apologies; I'll try and write them out by hand. Same goes for all the Every Pairing ficlets and the drabbles that I've been working on; please be patient with me and wait.

This chapter is a bit of a filler chapter. After having re-read all of my SK books, I've also tried to bring Yoh forcibly back to character, and he wanted a chapter of his own. (Not typical of Yoh, I know, but he's so cute that I couldn't resist.) Tell me what you think.

It's also a bit shorter than usual; I'll try to make the next one longer.

Chapter Ten: Thoughts and Blood

Three days could make so much of a difference.

In three days, she had leapt from devotion to a single boy to dating another. (She did not precisely recall how the promise had come about now, only that she grasped it as firmly now as she had ever clutched any of her possessions, and that she would rather be killed than to admit defeat and allow it to simply pass.)

Admittedly, they were twins, and Yoh had been an unfaithful brat, but nevertheless…

Hesitation clouded her thoughts, lacing them – no, suffusing them – until she thought that she might go mad from uncertainty, from no longer having that pillar of absolution around which she had twined her life.

If she had been anyone else, that conclusion would have been inevitable; Anna felt things with an intensity that had come of being able to divine others' thoughts at an early age, and that intensity was enough to send nearly anyone gibbering to the hospital for the mad. But she was Anna, and so was placidly stolid, unwavering; as though she did not feel the blows at all. Certainly Yoh thought so – and now more than ever, she was determined to keep that illusion in place between them.

If the blonde had studied her emotions more closely, pinning them to a black canvas like fragile butterfly wings for display, she might have caught the faintest hint of a desire to wreak vengeance upon him. Let him suffer what I have suffered. An eye for an eye.

What fortune it was, then, that she did not choose to study it, selecting for her studies instead the scant few garments that composed her wardrobe.

Women on her soap operas had always spent hours preparing for their rendezvous with the ones they loved. But she did not love Hao, and in any case, she had already begun to tire of the preparations five minutes into the process. It was fuss, and unnecessary at that – and Anna, regardless of whatever else she had become now, had never much cared for fuss. For her first… 'date' (she thought the word with a certain amount of distaste, eyes narrowing as she cast a cursory glance towards her reflection), she would doubtless have to make some sort of effort, if only to give Yoh the evidence that she cared somewhat for this venture.

Let's see. Her fingers skimmed lightly over the garments in the wardrobe as her eyes flickered through them and back again – there were hardly that many to select from in the first place. I have a choice between… the black dress, the other black dress, and the black dress that I had to mend because Yoh stepped on it. As the last one registered within her thoughts, she paused for a moment, lips thin with malice, before she discarded its consideration from her thoughts. I shall have him pay for it when I get back, and in the meantime, I'll wear the black one. He had better hope that he has the money to pay for it—

A knock reverberated through her door, sounding through the opaque paper screen with a rasp that echoed through her room.

She whirled upon it narrowly, features already contorted into an expression of decided unwelcome before she composed herself. There was only one resident within the house that would request permission before entering her room – Hao would simply stride in with the assurance that whatever he saw belonged to him in any case. And Anna had yet to see a guest of sufficient courage to brave her domain. It was apparent by their conspicuous absence that the brunet's companions had not yet recovered sufficiently to confront her again. The fact was unsurprising; she had, after all, duly bid each to wash the floors of the house, although bid was too mild a word for the manner with which she had requested their obedience.

"Come in." She said, and her lips were drawn tautly, like the frame of a bow, the string white against her features.

He poked his head in first, and she was much struck by some integral change in him. These past days, he had glowed still with the fact of Tamao's presence, so vibrant and alive that she had had to resist the heavy urge to strike him in order to remove some of that brightness. (And she had resisted it as much as she could; he was no longer hers to strike, hers to touch. Even that familiar habit had been denied her now.) Nevertheless, there had been a faint wilt about his edges, as though he were a bloom in the midst of dying. But now, it seemed, the sun had dawned upon him again, and he was grinning again with an endearing boyishness that made her breath catch at her throat with the familiarity of his expression – an expression that put them dangerously close to memories of other days when he had belonged to her…

"Yo." Yoh said, and grinned the memorable amalgamation of sheepish fear and peace that had always been his trademark. His smile faded somewhat, however, as he noticed the sprawling openness of her closet door and the emotion that imbued her surroundings – that charged it still, though his presence had lessened their aura somewhat. "Did I interrupt something?" He inquired in apparent concern.

"Preparations." She said carelessly, and turned away from him with that self-same cavalier manner that instigated a deeper frown upon his brow, momentarily taken aback by the casualness of her words.

"Preparations?" He echoed, and stepped into her room. As though that footstep had been a trigger, her head whipped back to stare at her former fiancé significantly. It took him a few moments to recall why the itako had begun to grip her beads in such a menacing fashion, but he recalled it eventually, and rapidly stepped outside her boundaries again with an awkwardly charming smile.

"Hao," – there was a certain difficulty, now that he was not present to exert his magnetism and remind her precisely why she had agreed to this ridiculous charade in the first place – "is taking me out this weekend." Now her eyelids lowered so that only slits of ebony showed, though they glared with the vividity of her open gaze. "Just as you and Tamao do." The blonde added in a cold monotone. The parallel was unmistakable, and Yoh did not miss it. (She would have, though the itako would have never admitted it, been disappointed if he had not caught it; she had not thought him a fool, only slightly and faintly misled.)

"You and Hao?" It seemed as though his pronunciation did not die away from the room immediately, but echoed throughout the space with a curious immortality that faded with incredible reluctance. She would not have said that he was shocked, precisely, but there was a certain amount of incomprehension in his gaze as he stared at her, eyes black pinpoints in ivory seas. "Are you two—" He began, and there was a certain amount of gentleness in his tone now.

"It would not matter if we were, would it?" Though she spoke one set of words, another phrase lurked beneath her flawless façade, sufficiently bolded so that he could see it through her half-translucent mask. You shouldn't care in any case, you have Tamao, you can't have the both of us, did you think that you could keep both of us and never be troubled again? But what she spoke aloud was phrased with a cool neutrality, though there was annoyance, too, in the way that she spoke; part of her intent had been to rouse in him some sort of feeling that she could read. Unfortunately, his mind was peculiarly murky, with no clear, distinct thoughts to rise above the stagnant swirl of contemplations that she had never troubled herself to read in anyone.

Anna wondered a little idly if he knew what he was thinking. Then, with a sudden sharpness, she wondered if he knew what he was thinking himself.

"Not if you were happy." He said, and was serious again, eyes dark but clear to the very bottom, like black riverwater. (She remembered a time when she had been very young – and cynical, but then she had always been so – when she had doubted the hearts of the world. And she had looked into that self-same clarion gaze and had fallen. She did not know until half a decade later when she had fallen into.) Owlishly solemn, he blinked at her again, unswervingly, but with a care that made her feel – irritably – as though he were attempting to handle her so that she would not break. As though she had grown fragile.

She did not realize that she had glanced down and away until she found that he was standing beside her, attempting to hold her gaze with his own by a curious twist of his body that—

"You look like a fool, standing that way." The itako said frigidly, but did not look away from him again.

A slow grin lifted his lips in the expression of a blossoming smile. He said, calmly, "But fools are happy, aren't they? And aren't I allowed now, to be a fool if I like?" The question was casual, but there was defiance in his words too. She would not have seen it if she had not been herself, and she knew that he himself knew the same thing. (That irritated her too, that even as she had learned him and everything that made him, he had learned her, too, in the years that they had been together.)

"You were always a fool." The blonde said, and stared at him as though she dared him to object to her statement. He merely laughed, however, straightening up and folding his hands with a unique twist that was all his own.

"I suppose I was always happy, then." He said, but forged on before she could think of some cutting retort that would turn him away from her door. "I wondered though, sometimes, if you were happy. You never seemed like it. You," and his eyes bored into hers with a sudden un-Yoh-like sharpness. "always seemed as though you hated me."

"Ah." mused Anna. "A blind fool who is happy nevertheless. What a rarity." At his blank look, she recalled that it was not Hao with whom she was bandying words, but Yoh, who had always preferred straightforwardness to the mysticism of metaphors. It was beginning to grow more difficult to distinguish them now, not because of the similarities in their appearance, but in the way that each had wormed a path into her private altar, and stood there now; irreplaceable if they should be lost. "I never hated you, Yoh. Must I tell you everything so simply?"

"Yes." He said, impertinently, and grinned. To both their surprises, she did not slap him, but kept still, regarding him for a moment as though she intended to memorize everything about this moment, about his form, and drink it down.

"Must I tell you everything twice?" Anna said, and her eyes had grown distant, hazy with a detachment that he recognized only too easily as her usual manner.

"It depends." He said. "Will you slap me if I ask twice?"

Her dark eyes glittered. "It depends." She mocked his phrasing, but with a half-seriousness that bade her continue even so. "Is your question a good one?"

"It is—important." He confirmed, solemn again, though airily so. "Do you truly intend to go out with my brother this weekend?"

The temperature that had begun to ease its way into spring between them now froze again with the brittle chill of winter. Her gaze was arctic as she turned it upon him, full of ice and the deadly things that might be uncovered in the whiter season. As though she had forgotten his presence, Anna toyed with the hem of her sleeve for a moment before she glanced towards him again. And when she did, her gaze was flecked with ice.

"Do you have any problems with it?" She inquired silkily – though her eyes were set like encrusted black diamonds.

Fear of her overcame any thoughts he might have had towards her protection, and he shook his head slowly, barely. "N- no." He managed to say.

"Good." She affirmed coldly, though there was nothing of that acknowledgement in the chill of her voice. "Now get out."

As he moved past the threshold, the sound of her voice arrested him briefly again. "Oh, and Yoh-kun?"

"H-hai?" Half-stammeringly, he glanced back, imbued with curiosity and something rather more than the idle thoughts of a healthy mind.

Without glancing up from her apparently fascinated study of her garment, the itako said, "Don't even think about following us." Now she did raise her head, and he thought that he could recognize where her gaze had come from. He had seen cobras on the television, once, that had resembled her, with their hypnotic gazes and the subtle threats that she now flared to expose. "It's none of your business anymore."

Silently, the boy lamented his former fiancée's ability to mind-read, and left before she could think of more restrictions to impose upon him.

He could hear murmurings within, the casual yelpings of little children, little pups who didn't know when they had it good. They annoyed him, these children, but it was not with them that he held his affairs, but with another… Was this the wrong house after all? Had his spirit been mistaken? (And they had been so careful to avoid the sight of these ghost-seeing children too; was that effort, too, to be wasted?)

He squinted through the brick. Ah, spirit, just a little farther, I need to find him to speak to him…

"What are you doing here?" Feathered blue hair shone momentarily beneath the moonlight before dissipating into the shadows in order to reappear behind the newcomer. "You should know that Hao-sama does not appreciate disturbances in his own home." Mockery danced within her gaze, and said all that might be necessary regarding her opinions of the other two denizens within the house; one with tremendous potential that he could not be bothered to unlock, the other with powers that she seemed to keep eternally veiled.

"I needed to see him." The man said gruffly. "Stand aside, little woman-slave. My business is not with you, but with your probable master."

Icy disdain flared within her gaze as she stared at him noncommittally. "Did you," she said, "filth of the world, just call me a slave?"

"It's what you are, isn't it?" He shrugged carelessly, eyes careful and blank as he folded his hands together. "I'm after your master, Hao. Stand aside, girl. Or must I tell you in more forceful terms?"

"He bores Mari." A voice of a higher pitch than the first woman's low, sensual voice drifted out from the gloom. "He is boring. Mari thinks that he is trying to join Hao-sama like all the others." She paused deliberately a moment, lucidly dulled eyes regarding him with something he caught as contempt. "Mari does not think that he will survive."

"Ha!" Now a third girl had appeared. Leaning lightly upon the support of what appeared to be a broomstick, she, too, peered interestedly at the newcomer. "So he is." She said, but a note of disapproving amusement had touched her voice. "If Hao-sama approves him, I shall have to be very sorry for him; if we do not help him, he will be buried immediately when the Tournament comes."

When first they had begun to mock him, he had said nothing, but at this – the mention of the sacred Tournament upon a filthy little brat's lips – his fists clenched.

"Little ignorants," he spat. "Do you think that I know nothing! You have no strength whatsoever, if you cannot see mine—"

"Ah, but then, if they are weak for not being able to see it, I must be the same." A cool voice interjected itself neatly into the conversation, slipping delicately into the smooth flow of the exchange as though he were merely resuming his place. And he had – the shaman realized – he had. Even without his presence, the trio that had confronted him had positioned themselves with a slight flaw in their position; a flaw where he now fitted in order to complete them.

"Boy," he said, and drew himself to his full height with arrogant poise. Addressing the boy in the beige cloak and the curious star-patterned belt, he said, coldly, "I seek a conference with your master, not some whelp not half crawled out of his mother's womb."

As the boy leaned forwards in the darkness, however, he bit his lip, suppressing the gasp that rose through his lungs. There was an ancient malice within those newly-minted obsidian eyes; a malevolence that surely could not have been accumulated within a single lifetime alone.

"Be careful what words you address to the master." Said Hao, and only after even the whispering echo of his voice had faded did the man realize that this child, this boy, was mocking him and everything that he stood for. Nevertheless, forcing his spine to bend, he bowed in a gesture of submission and acquiescence.

"I have come to join you, Hao-sama." He said. "News of your might has spread all over the world, and the fools retreat into their homes in the hopes that they will be able to ward you away. I understand strength, however, and that you are the strongest. Therefore I pledge my services to—"

"Huh!" A sharp circular object spiralled through the darkness, slicing through the shadows and, before he could move, his shoulder.

He stared in the horror at the gash upon his arm, which was beginning to react, at last, to the injury and gradually fill with blood. "M-master," he began, glaring daggers at the rotund Oriental man who had newly emerged from the darkness.

"You haven't earned the right to call Hao-sama your master." A bearded, solemn man who would have taken after the look of preachers, were it not for the fact that his suit and hat were a solemn black, and that upon his prominent chin was tattooed an inverted cross – a symbol of heresy wherever it was marked. Despite his simple, trimmed appearance, however, there was a feral grin upon his features that the shaman had learned to identify as the worst kind of madness in streetfolk. "So don't try it."

"And how do we even know that we can trust you?" Now an Arabian-styled man peered at him from the side, arms crossed flatly over his flowing white robes; a stark contrast over how fluidly his garments move. "People have tried to kill Hao-sama before." He paused, meaningfully. "They failed – and paid for that failure with their lives."

"I- I would never dream of harming Master!" He lied, but inevitably, his thoughts spun back to the people that he had left behind him in order to accomplish this mission. They had chosen him because of the nickname that he had earned among them. The Smiler.

He smiles even when there is nothing to smile about.

He smiles because he is in love, and love makes everything beautiful.

He smiles because he trusts everything, and so nobody could resist trusting in him. Not even the devil himself.

He had not smiled when Hao's intentions to participate again in the Tournament had been announced, but had put on his garments, slowly, regally, with the promise that he would be back soon, before the kiss upon his wife's cheek faded from lack of warmth. He would be back, after killing the devil and putting an end to his cursed third life on Earth.

Third is last, he had said, and his wife had laughed…

He grew aware that Hao was smiling at him. "A very interesting story." Said the shaman conversationally, and absentmindedly allowed a flicker of flame to spark upon his fingers. "I particularly enjoyed the bit about your wife; it is sweet to see that there can be such dedication to each other in a world filled with mortal taint and such tribulations." And his smile broadened, so that he looked as any innocent boy would have in the circumstances, grin full-fledged with the glint of teeth caught between, charming and curiously warming after a fashion...

He blinked, uncertain, for a moment, of what he had heard from the boy's lips. He had not spoken aloud, and yet—

"And yet I can hear you." The faint grin upon Hao's lips broadened, and a lazy, sensual twist touched them gently. "Is that what you were going to say? You seem quite badly informed about the enemy that you were attempting to defeat. Would you like me to solve the puzzle for you?" Despite that taunting query, he remained still, staring in a peculiar fashion at the man before releasing an expansive sigh. "I suppose I shall have to tell you." He said, a sardonic melancholy imbuing his tone. "I can, as humans crassly call the things that I do, read thoughts." And he folded his hands neatly against his lap as he watched the other shaman's face dim in pallid weakness.

"I am also, of course," he admitted, with a mocking sensitivity, "rather sad that the opponents that the fates have deemed to send me are quite so weak in both comprehension and furyoku, but ah well." He examined his fingers leisurely, spreading the slender digits out in the moonlight so that they gleamed like slashes of ink in a Chinese character. "I suppose every road must have a few – what are those curious human inventions? Speed bumps. Killing you wouldn't be any fun for me, however," he went on, to the older man's considerable surprise. And if he had not been struck dumb in staring at the fire shaman, he would have never caught the careless flicker of fingers that the boy made that seemed to trigger his companions' assault…

All other observations that he might have made regarding the situation were utterly lost as six figures launched their attack upon him and he found himself assaulted on all sides, mercilessly—

"They've decided to be unmerciful tonight, I see." The young Asakura's voice rang out through the garden, unafraid of being heard. "They're not going to give you a speedy death." He tipped his head up so that the moonlight silvered his features, outlining each line upon his features with such definition that suddenly he looked his age – the age that he had long ago attained beneath his skin.

And he smiled, so hard that his eyes fanned shut. "I am sorry for you." He mused, though he did not turn to look at the shaman again. Neither did he speak again – or perhaps the violence was simply so pervasive that he could not hear the boy's words any longer.

His wife's features swam before his eyes, and silently, even as he slashed out desperately in a reckless attempt to survive, he mouthed her name into the air…

Moments later, his blank-eyed corpse fell to the ground with a dead thud, with only the slightest of dark tricklings from his body to indicate that this was not merely an unconscious person, or a man that had fallen asleep.

Hao inspected the curious device strapped to his arm, and made a little moue of distaste as the display screen flared to life. "Ah, so he wasn't all that strong in any case. But there is still something so terribly wasteful about the idea that shamans will throw themselves at me in this way."

"Opacho no liked him." Said a tiny, piping voice beside him. Gently, the dark-haired boy smiled at his diminutive companion.

"No," he said, with the usual solemn sweetness that imbued his manner. "I didn't like him either. Are you glad that he is dead, Opacho?"

"This way too slow." The petite child complained with her clumsy language. "Needs faster. You burn next time?"

"Oh," Indulgently, he snapped his fingers, as though he had nearly forgotten his duties. Immediately, the body flared to life, unholy hues glowing within the flames. "There." The long-haired adolescent said with satisfaction, examining his handiwork with a languorous grace. "He's burning now." And he laughed to see the little girl smile as she gazed hypnotically into the flames…

"Hao-sama," Having dissipated to reappear behind him again, Kanna inclined her slender body in an obeisance, though her eyes burned with the edge of insanity – tribute to the sacred belief that they all shared in Hao. "Why did you waste your energy in burning him? We could have easily disposed of the body ourselves—"

"You do too much for me." Hao said with a wry smile, though a sinister light glittered within his gaze. "Besides, I rather like to do some things myself. And I could not have touched his body myself. After all—" his lip curled, though with amusement or disdain, it could not be ascertained; both emotions seemed to meld and become nothing beneath the illusions of moonlight.

"I have a date with the dear Anna-chan soon. And I wouldn't want to bloody my hands in case she sensed it…"

Author's Note: Again, my apologies for taking so long. But on the other hand (for those who care. Which probably isn't many, as it has nothing to do with SK fanfiction) I now have sixty-four pages of Times New Roman, size twelve original fiction. By moi. –pleased-

Review Replies:

asn water: Your very own personal drabble!

Manta Wants to Know

"So…" The diminutive boy glanced towards his companion, who was now yawning as they strode home. Tamao, her worries soothed, had dashed away to her own dwelling before they could realize that it was taking her longer to get home than usual. "What were you thinking about?"

"Oh, serious things." Said Yoh, and grinned. "Nothing very important, really."

A vein in Manta's forehead twitched. "You were thinking," he pointed out, "for several hours. It has to be important. And even if you don't think it so, tell me anyway."

Surprised by the shorter boy's fervor, Yoh peered momentarily at him, eyes wide with bemusement. "Oh, very well." He said.

"I realized that…"

"Yes?"

His grin broadened as his stomach released a tell-tale gurgle. "I want to eat oranges!" He finished with a wide smile.

Manta looked pained.

Poor Manta. –pets him- He really doesn't deserve all that I do to him.

bOw-doWn-tO-KeiKO: I thought so too. I put it down to the extra sugar he had to lunch and exactly how worried he's been about Yoh. Since you're most likely to know, is Yoh canon in this chapter, do you think?

Digi RD: Of course I will. ;P After all that fuss about voting and such, I'm going to keep it Yoh/Anna with separate arcs for HaoxAnna. It would be too much of a headache to change it again now.

Yoh/Anna Fan: -blinks- Uhm… did you read my author notes at all? o.O

Inulover4eva: Well, the RenxAnna was up a while ago, as you probably noticed. :) Everything else is going to take a while, though, as I'm grounded.

Kawaii Koneko92: You favour the HaoxAnna, right? Next chapter should be worth waiting for, then. ;)

Dillpops: I've always thought of Hao as the kind of person who would go to extremes normal people wouldn't go to in order to achieve his goals. Did he know he looked like Yoh? Probably not. Would he have minded if he'd known? Only a little bit, and that, insultedly, that Anna didn't want him for himself. And I wrote a drabble for Asn Water (Up There) that is partially Manta-centric. Manta won't be seen for a few chapters, as the next few are going to revolve around the main characters' houses, and what happens within, but I promise you that he'll pop up again.

KristiexxNguyen: I always thought that Japanese was like Chinese, and therefore Yoh and Na were two separate characters and could be put together if necessary. Unfortunately, I don't know all that much about Japanese. And how on earth was Anna persuaded to name her child 'Flower'? –laughs-

Ketone: Yes, the Tournament is the Shaman Fight. Unfortunately, I like the word 'Tournament' better. –sweatdrops-

Trisyl: If I write a sequel to this, Manta will have a growth spurt. ;P At the moment, however, the only way I see for him to get taller is to stretch him on the ra ck. Which would not be fun, so please don't make me. As for fanart, I'm working on a chibi set. Hao is the only one who looks right so far.

I know Tamao's a little out of character – but she's got depth now. She's not just a 2-D Yoh-fan. She has her own life, her angers, her petty jealousies and her sweet lightness. And that's what I wanted to do to her.

Heh; wait and find out like everyone else. The drabble was partially right. And partially… not.

Anonymous: Sorry for the wait! –sweatdrops-

Koneko-Koneko: Sad is good. –pleased- I like sad things, although happy moments are good too.

TenkunoMeiou: Heh… It's people like you who commend me on my updates that make me feel guilty that I'm not updating faster… Sorry.

anime-obsession260: Yes, but only for the major pairings. For instance, if you fancy a HaoxJun, you'll have to go request it at Every Pairing, not here. Here, only HaoxAnna, YohxAnna and their respective pairings get arcs.

Crystal-Faerie: Moreover, YohxAnna is canon. –grins-

Black Hikari: Er… -shuffles feet- This isn't 'soon', but it's 'now'.

cherri-chan: The torture is for their own good; for character development and to achieve an ending. (And I likes character development; for instance, I shall be able to flesh out Tamao- hurrah!) And… really? –laughs- Wow… And I thought Chinese was the only language to be so utterly silly and confusing!

Bibliomaniac: I'll write a MantaxTamao for Every Pairings, but not for here. Here, Tamao needs to learn strength, and therefore should (logically, in my mind, although perhaps not in yours) be paired with an Asakura. And besides, I like challenging pairings; they give me something to strive for. A good writer can write just about anything. (And since I'm working on becoming just that, I need to try everything.)

Oh, she's Anna. She won't get carried away… much. I'm not sure what qualifies, however; she's cynical, rapier-tongued when she wants to be, kind when she wants to be (although subtly, so that it does not contrast with her harridan-image), focused on making Yoh Shaman King, and uninterested in the trappings of love. I plan to keep her so, but everything else is probably negotiable. Unless I missed something.

Hao has a natural charm to him; charisma, I think they call it. And even though she knows it's there, she can't help being affected by it at some level deeper than her consciousness, and treats him accordingly.

She can't exactly get it from Yoh at the moment, now can she, considering the circumstances? And I don't think that she wants it, in any case. (Not at the moment, anyway.)

She's not angsting now, at least; she's out for blood. This subtly!angry Anna is one of my favourite phases to play. :)