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Author's Notes: AUGH! I'm soooo sooooo sorry I haven't updated this fiction in forever! FOREVER! But this chapter is really long, so maybe you'll forgive me. Or maybe I'll just confuse the hell out of you. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE don't take this chapter to heart okay? This is just my interpretation of Kharl and Garfakcy's meeting. I know many other people have other ideas about that unrevealed part of the Dragon Knights story, but this fiction is just my idea of the whole thing. I definitely have to thank book 13 for furthering my "family-man Kharl" viewpoint. Was I the only one who thought the Avis Rara (name of the doctor disguise that Kharl uses to seek in) scene was REALLY cute! I was almost in tears.. Kharl is sooooo adorable! Sorry.. Fangirl outburst there. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter, which kinda wanders a bit. But anyway.. Am I the ONLY one who has noticed- Garfakcy has NO eyebrows (but he's still a bomb-assed bishi)! I went back and checked.. Nary an eyebrow to be seen! Think Mineko couldn't get them to look right on him? Okay, that was a totally random thought. Whatever. I'm going to be opening a new website with Dragon Knights images, fan fiction, and more of the like sometime soon. Whoops.. Gotta go. Enjoy!

Disclaimer:
His hair's never been red,
But I've seen it blue,
I don't own him,
So you can't sue!

Background Music: In the Land of Twilight (.hack OST)

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Cloaks
By Sarehptar
Chapter Two
Death Seed, Blood, and Emerald Eyes

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If I had not realized so much as I first heard their words, would I still be here—fallen on the Tower floor? There's a sea of crimson about me, but my eyes are blurred, and I cannot tell red tile from blood. I'm straining so hard to keep them in sight: their black boots all in a circle. But I am numb. I cannot tell if it is my body or the earth beneath me that is moving. Even so deadened, I can feel their stares, and I wonder... I wonder if their eyes see an enemy, as he once did so long ago. That day... It was another memory added to my collection of fell dreams.

That harsh voice… Is it yours? I can hardly tell the difference anymore. Your voice sounds like all the others, sharp and metallic in my ears. Your glaive is was shattered; most likely the armor I crafted was destroyed. It means you're weaponless, defenseless and among the "enemy." But you're calling... for me. Stop calling. If you truly understood who I was, my motives and the blackness of my soul, you would not fight your captives, trying to run to my side. You would be running in the opposite direction.

I sometimes wondered why you did not question me more. You never once asked me "Why?" Did you know my answer already? I don't think that you could. I never told you; I never told anyone my true reasoning. Perhaps, like so many times before, I was frightened. I was frightened by feeling itself. I was too afraid to act on anything but the canon coldness of the youkai soul. Even now, with my dying breaths in my throat, I will not tell you. I will never tell you that I took you in because of my own selfish need. Maybe it was the way we were so alike... The way I saw only myself when I looked on your tiny form, so helpless and alone. Am I a fool for wanting to quell that pain in you? I wanted you to have what I had not—a home, a family.

It was sunny that day, but not the warm sunlight that could lift even the darkest heart. It was a different light, one that seemed weak and distant; faded and gray. It is always like that after the morbid and beautiful glow of a scarlet sunrise. It was not a day that normal youkai would be itching to go into. I suppose even then that I was no normal youkai. The Master said to stay put, to stay indoors. I thought it odd that he picked such a bleak day to order that command. Perhaps if I had heeded his warnings... But I was young and brash. All I could see of the day was a new opportunity to test his gifts.

They were perhaps the only corporeal thing he had ever given me: twin birds, so large that they dwarfed my own five feet. He had handed them vagrantly to me with the orders that I was to 'Grow into them.' The memory brings a chuckle to my lips, and that brings its own well of coppery black blood, a now too familiar taste in my mouth. I don't think it was adoration for the creatures that made me love them so. No... It wasn't that. It was the very idea that anyone cared enough to give me gifts. I suppose it shouldn't have surprised me. The Master, while stoic at times and fiery at others, was the closest thing to a father I have ever known. Under his wing I traded in rags for robes, cold dirt for a blanketed bed, tears for ash, and unwittingly, innocence for education. I turned my gratitude for acceptance and care into curiosity and determination. I forced myself always to work beyond his expectations, even as they grew, just so I could hear a single kind word, or more rarely, be rewarded with a fanged smile. I killed for that sort of prize. Every time my unique gifts struck down innocents with their own weapons, the master would grin darkly and murmur,

"Good. Very good." I should have been staring at the abomination my hands had created, but instead I was basking in his smirk and praise. I shouldn't have been so blinded by the childish need for love and appreciation. Indeed, whatever care he showed to me, I returned tenfold. I toiled so long and forcefully, that in the end, I had surpassed his skill in alchemy, in weaponry, in battle. But there was one aspect of his lessons I could not understand fully until after his death. Each time he ran my hands over the corpses of innocents, filled my cup to the brim with frothing human blood, destroyed villages and families, I felt nothing. My mind could not grasp the idea that death meant victory. My body could not feel the wild rush and mad thrill of the hunt he so vividly described. I was still a child, and for that, I think he was bitterly disappointed.

I almost want to smile again, but I can no longer force myself to do anything but breathe -even that exercise was becoming a struggle- and I can feel my thoughts wandering. I had been trying to remember our first meeting, but here I was thinking instead of my Master. Still, to some degree... You could consider the two related.

The birds he gave me were delightful creatures, and I bought tiny bits of his praise each time I found ways to exploit their powers a little more. It had taken me less than a year to raise them beyond what the Master could ever have imagined, and I grew so attached to them, the sign that someone loved me, that all my work was run through them, all my experiments involved their terrifying power, all my days were spent in their company. And that was why, on that dreary spring morning, against the Master's orders, I opened my bedroom window and did something incredibly childish. It is strange how everything else seems dark in my mind, but this moment tugs at my memory as if I am still there. My heart is racing as I duck past his bedroom window, though in truth it is softly slowing. My breaths come quick and nervous as I hear him hiss out some complaint or another. His door slams, and knowing he gone, most likely into the ancient library, I sprint toward the trees.

I can even remember the young, mischievous smile alight on my face as I caught up to the birds. They'd been anxious for days, and had been more than willing to stretch their wings. But that day wasn't meant for play. That was the day I meant to test my newest creation. The trial of course, would have to be held away from castle. My Master would have never approved of something that took the "thrill" out of killing. Though I didn't know it then, my newest creation, the "Death Seed," was the first step down the dark and bloody path he had tried so hard to teach me. I did not think of it this way. Indeed, I saw it only as a course around the inevitable. The Master would see the death he desired, and I would receive his praise without having to sully my hands. There was a time so long ago that the sight of blood repulsed me.

I should have realized that something was not right immediately. The forest had been too silent; the air too still. I could not find a single moving creature—youkai or human alike. To say I was extremely frustrated, though at that time I was learning to curb my temper, would not have been an understatement. I was going to return to the castle if I had not suddenly heard the most interesting of sounds. It wasn't until many years later that it registered in my mind: those pitiful wails so stirred with rage and pain... They must have been your own. It wasn't until I was nearly upon it that I noticed I was near the human village. I must admit, I never understood humans. Less than a mile from a youkai castle, they built their homes. Did they enjoy being slaughtered?

I brushed aside a shrub easily and starred blankly at the scene before me. Your acrimonious screams of hatred rung in my ears, and I can still smell the scent of human blood, rampant in the air.

"Thief!"

"Bastard!"

"Pickpocket!" Masses of humans were shouting at the top of their overly loud lungs. The Death Seeds were trapped in my palm, long forgotten. My attention was at that time curiously locked on the people. The center of their mob had been a writhing mass of young men, fists and feet flying in every direction, trying to hold down something that already smelled like pain. The humans had pressed closer and closer into the circle, and looked like paintings of fish from my books on the Arinain Sea. Suddenly the boys had stood up, grasping tightly onto the form of a much smaller, struggling human child.

My first glimpse of you was… shocking to say the least. As a youkai, I had seen things that humans could never stand. I had seen death, heh, I had caused it. But I had never seen anything like this. Even my mind, talented in a science that involved killing my own kind, was floored by the show of human brutality toward one of their children. There was not an inch of your body that was not blackened by bruises, lacerated by rips that shone down to white bone, smeared with blood and dirt. Your hair was ripped, matted from the abuse you had suffered. Your emerald eyes were clouded with agony and antipathy. Under the grime, your rags had been frayed, ripped, stained; the indiscernible cloth hung limply off your emaciated form.

That moment... For the first time in my young life, I had come close to feeling. Now that I look back, I suppose it was that moment I realized, inadvertently, that youkai could feel, could experience emotion as deeply as humans. It was a realization that buried itself in the back of my mind for years, resurfacing as fear and worry and occasionally, grief. Yet, I don't think it was your unloved appearance that made me act. It must have been your words.

"I hate you!" You were screaming. "I hate you all!" You were still struggling against your captors' holds, even when I knew you could not stand on your own. I had been very curious. How could such a small child contain so much loathing? I used that as my excuse, though truthfully, I wanted to put an ending to their savageness.

The first three Death Seeds struck truth, felling their targets instantly. A part of me was delighted that my work had been a success. People had turned around; glancing shocked between their dead comrades and myself. Several more collapsed, expired on the dirt road, before the people moved at all. There wasn't mass panic as I had suspected. No, they backed away slowly, uncertainly. It had been too fast for them; they had not seen the Death Seeds that struck down their friends.

I've always remembered that shocked humans have the most ridiculous expressions on their faces, even when standing next to their doom. The people stepped back from me, forming an absurd little pathway straight to their victim. The boys perhaps were the first to run, leaving you in a pitiful raging heap on the ground. Avoiding tiny fists and blistered feet I gathered you up and left the aghast men and women behind. You ignored me even as I held you, and turned to yell violently from beneath my arm,

"I hate all of you! I hate all you humans! I want you to just die! I want to kill you!" We had barely lost sight of the village when your uproar faded into quiet sobs (you later assured me it was only from pain) and mumbled death threats.

The full force of what I had done did not hit me until I came in sight of the castle walls. What was I supposed to do with you! I could not very well waltz right into the Master's domain with a human in my arms! It was also that moment you chose to notice just who had carried you away.

"Youkai?" You asked me, though it was more of a statement than a question. I nodded vagrantly, wondering what your reaction would be. "If you're going to eat me, get it over with." Your voice, even hoarse from screaming, had a toughness that did not match your broken state. I think there might have been a smile on my face as I replied,

"If I intended to eat you, I would not have come all this way." You stared suspiciously at me for a second.

"Then what are you going to do with me?" Snappish, like an oversized wasp. There must have been a visible cringe on my face. What was I going to do? It certainly was a good question…

You've stopped calling for now. I hear them whispering amongst each other, but I can't make out a word. I wonder… If I had chosen a different option, made a different decision about your fate… Would we still be here now?

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Author's Notes: Yet again, I find myself writing this rather late at night. I just never stop! You know, this story is really hard to write. The style of writing is a lot more different than my own. Oh! Hehehe... I had the weirdest idea for a fanfiction the other night. But I won't tell you, just in case I end up using it. I told my best friend the idea and she said, "That would be... awkward," with the strangest look on her face. I'm not sure if it was delight or contemplation.. Anyways, what did you think? Next chapter, I promise you'll get to see the normal carnage-loving Kharl. I'm having loads of fun with this story though. Today, the guy I'm really into picked up the handwritten copy of this chapter (in my composition book) and thought it was journal. Needless to say, he looked at me funny until I explained it was a story. Then he looked at me funny again when I explained it was a story from a GUY'S point of view. Heh heh heh...

It's past midnight, so I won't do review responses today. Still, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed:
Kuroya
Akira-of-the-Demons
Kawaii ningen kitsune
Shadowwolf-chan the Kharl fan (Your name rocks)
Kitsune
DarkIlluzer
snakespirit
TurtleChan
Kit
bearmoon
Thanks so much!

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