Hey guys! Yesterday I saw the Wolverine movie with my best friend since pretty much forever, all the way since preschool :) It was so amazing. Gosh I love fight scenes. The Japanese Samurai Iron Man caught me by surprise, and so did one other scene that I could not repeat because I'd turn bright red and my family would wonder what I REALLY wrote during my free time.

Anyway, in an hour I'm teaching a friend how to drive (yikes!) and then may or may not see another movie with a friend and her family. Hopefully the decide on Pacific Rim . . . that movie looks so intense. Giant robots beating the snot out of the other. So much yes right there.

Comments at the end, and enjoy chapter five.

[SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE! I WAS WORKING ON IT IN THE MORNING AND WAS OUT ALL DAY . . . FORGOT ABOUT IT UNTIL NOW D:]

The sky was burning.

Fires singed the clouds a hellish scarlet hue. Screams filled the air. The warm earth, heated from the hot air and pounding feet, was damp and muddy with dark, sticky liquid. Strange rocks littered the valley; broken swords gleamed orange in the fire light, arrows lay scattered on the ground like fallen chopsticks, a helmet torn in half. Rin fell to his knees, knocked off balance from a thrust with a shield. He glanced up; someone stood above him, tall above the mass of bodies that pressed against each other on the battlefield, with a gun in his slender hands. Rin growled at him, the sword in his hand shining blue.

"Look at what you've become!" shouted the figure. It was a familiar voice but lost among the shroud of memory, forgotten in the past.

Rin got to his feet, the metal plates soundlessly sliding on each other as they accustomed themselves to his every movement. Hard sheets of the dark metal cocooned his chest and back; more of the light armor covered his thighs, legs, arms. Even his fingers were protected by thin sheets, as were his shoulders; here, the armor jutted out slightly, three separate plates of metal sharpened to a fine point. He had lost his helmet long ago, but it didn't matter. He hated that thing anyway, hated how it obstructed his blue-tinted vision of the battlefield.

Rin grabbed his sword and cut upward; the figure jumped back, over another grotesquely-shaped rock.

But not a rock, Rin realized. A body. A dead, twisted body, bent in an unnatural shape due to her thin spine being rent in two. The girl's face was pale, a stark contrast against her dark clothes. A pointed ear lightly poked out of her silver hair, stained scarlet with blood. Her expression was one of pure terror, her unseeing violet eyes open and her mouth warped in a silent scream.

Dead.

Rin tore his gaze away and fixed his eyes back on the man before him. He hated; hated the humans who killed the demons so carelessly, thoughtlessly, as if they were ants being trampled underfoot. What right did they have to sever another life apart from there's, demon or not?

How was this fair? The exorcists had promised protection; some even went as far as to say equality, if Rin and those under him joined his side. Rin had agreed; after all, it was the first good news in months.

His blue eyes scanned the battlefield, at the fires spitting out black smoke in the distance and the innumerable mass of bodies battling each other, their skin shined with sweat and darkened by blood. Demons and humans weren't as different as the humans liked to believe. They all bleed the color red.

Rin flicked his eyes to the familiar stranger holding the gun. He hated, hated so much he could barely hold it all in. The demon inside of him, the other half of his soul, screamed for sweet release. Rin remembered a time, hazy in the memories, where he had to struggle every day to contain his flames. But here, in Gehenna, who was to stop him? Who had the right?

"You work for god?" Rin growled to the exorcist. The beast inside of him screamed, wreaked havoc inside of him, demanded obedience, demanded freedom.

"Rin!" the man called. "Stop this!"

"Well," the Prince of Gehenna continued, flames bursting in his hands, "tonight, you will meet your - "

Rin's eyes snapped open. His heart hammered in his chest as he breathed hard, a cold sweat beading on his brow. A dream, he told himself, repeated to himself like a mantra. It was only a dream. He closed his eyes, feeling a bit nauseous; he could still feel the heat stinging his eyes, the screams tearing the sky in two. He could feel his flames inside of him, stirring deep in his chest, demanding blood for the lives lost.

His nerves frayed, he took deep breathes until the adrenaline rush wore off. He was so tired, so incredibly tired, and he didn't know when he closed his eyes again.

When he woke again, to his surprise and relief, the chains had been removed from his wrists and ankles. For a moment he wondered who did it, but then decided he didn't particularly cared. He twisted his arms around, reveling in the movements, then threw his legs off of the bed and got to his feet. His toes tingled from the blood flow and he took a few cautious steps. When he didn't fall over he headed to the door and checked the knob.

Locked.

He wasn't that surprised. Suddenly he felt a twinge on his wrists and ankles; when he pulled away the bandages to check, he realized that the sore and broken skin had stitched itself back together again . . . though it had left a scar. He ignored that and pulled up his shirt instead - it was fresh, he noticed - and was pleased when the ribs weren't sore as well. His lips weren't cracked either.

Maybe it was the metal, he wondered around. Maybe that's why it didn't heal before. In all honesty, when he first became a demon, it had scared him when he figured out just how quickly his wounds regenerated, though he had never admitted it to anyone.

Suddenly his stomach growled. He grimaced and tried the door again; he didn't want to escape anymore. He was done with that and besides, he was done being chained to beds. His muscles, sore and cramped from being in the same position for so long, might have already recovered, but the memory was fresh in his mind.

A knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts and Rin, startled, took a step back. It opened and the silver-haired girl from yesterday was on the other side, still in her rags. Her violet eye watched him blankly while the other was hidden behind the black eye patch. Her silver hair was messy on her head and, for the first time, Rin noticed she had chains on her wrists and ankles.

She lightly bowed to him. "I have come to bring you food." Like before, her voice held no emotion.

Rin didn't like her very much, though the chains she wore tugged at his heart in sympathy. "Thanks."

For the first time, an emotion sparked in her eyes - utter confusion - but vanished moments later. "I have come to bring you food," she repeated, and opened the door wider to bring in the cart.

For a moment, Rin wondered if he should make a break for it; just run out of the room and down the hall like nobody's business. But, when he thought about it, the food was here.

The door closed with a click and the demon-girl wheeled the cart to the bed without so much as blinking at him. With practiced hands she set the tray down on the plush covers and pulled off the lid, revealing the instant ramen in the metal bowl. It smelled like spice and warm broth, the kind that he made for Yukio or himself whenever they got a cold.

The scent made his stomach growl, almost painfully, but Rin wasn't nearly as clueless as people believed him to be. It could be poisoned or . . . or something. He didn't know, and eyed the ramen suspiciously from his spot by the far wall as the demon-girl made it look nice, almost like royalty.

His stomach growled again and knotted. How long had it been since he had eaten?

And that reminded him of his birthday, and the cake that he had been making. Happy birthday to him.

Rin bit his lip and pushed those thoughts aside. If he messed up, he would die here and never have another again, or worse - live long enough to see himself become mad, trapped in Gehenna like a pet, and simply let the flames free . . .

"Where am I?" he demanded, trying to distract himself. He could taste the sweet spice in the air, the ginger and the warmth of the noodles. It almost made him drool right there.

The demon-girl glanced at him, her one good eye fixed on his. "The Royal Palace," she replied.

"Where?"

"Your room."

My room? Rin blinked in surprise and turned to look at the room again. He had figured it was a guest room, or even a fancy prison cell. That's what it felt like. "This isn't my room," he practically growled. "My room is back home."

Her voice was flat. "This is your home."

"It's not," Rin stated, his temper flaring. "My home is in Assaih, not here. Not in this place."

"This," she said slowly, "has always been your home." For the first time, Rin heard a tinge of emotion; jealousy? He nearly laughed; why on earth would she be jealous of him, the son of Satan, no better than an animal? The only thing that kept him sane was his human half, the part that never was killed away despite all those years being treated like the plague in school.

A demon.

He smiled to himself; a smile that Lucifer might have made moments before he fell from heaven.

If only they knew.

The end! I'll make it fast because it's late and I want to work on my novel . . . trying to overcome my writer's block. Or, more specifically, how-the-heck-am-I-supposed-to-word-this? Emotions are always the hardest to put into words, but I try.

SkyHana: So, to clarify again, Zane is from my novel, not Rin's demon name or something, though the idea was clever. I'll fix that eventually.

Dowgma: Hahahahah only for you :P And dude, if you thought of an amazing scene, PM it to me and I'll see if I can fit it in a later chapter (and , of course, I'll give you credit before the chapter if it's used) And thank you! :D

Hartanna: Don't worry. They have something up their sleeve. ;)