DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters of X/1999.

A/N: A really quick update just because I'm having way too much fun writing. So in this chapter, we learn about a little fun fact on how the two sexy seme males met. Enjoy! Oh and thank you thank you thank you so much for the wonderful reviews!

Dark Angels

"When did you get this possessive?" Seishirou asked. The ends of his long black coat flapped in the night breeze as he and Fuuma stood along the center of Rainbow Bridge. From his right coat pocket, he took out a packet of cigarettes—under the colored lights Fuuma caught a glimpse of an unfamiliar brand—and lit one up.

"I thought you only smoke Mild Seven," Fuuma said, his eyes back on the skyline of central Tokyo.

Seishirou took a long drag before replying, "Japan Tobacco changed it's name to Mevius last year."

"Stupid name in my opinion."

"Nobody asked for your opinion, Fuuma. Though I wanna know what's your deal with this one. You usually let me get close to them." Seishirou said between grins, his cigarette hanging by his bottom lip.

Fuuma said nothing. Seishirou had a point he could not refute. He's never reacted this way with any one of them before. They had all been special, especially her. Even after a century later, he can't deny that she had played the biggest role in his life. She had been his biggest influence. And after losing her, like how he had with the ones before, he thought he was done. Century after century of looping madness—and it just gets more maddening each time—was enough, even for a stone-cold hearted son of a devil like himself. He just wanted to get his job done. So, he had begged for one thing—which he never did because of too much pride—so that he won't make the same mistake of falling in love with his mark. "Let it be a man this time," he had asked. He got what he asked for and it still made no difference. Not one god damn difference to him. In fact, it made him more obsessed. And no matter what he did, he just can't seem to get those violet eyes out of his mind.

"You gotta go already?" Kamui asked, disappointment flaring through his pupils and it almost drove Fuuma mad. If not for his fierce inclination towards self-control, he would have given in. No, he thought. Not tonight. Not yet.

"Yes. I have to go settle some... things."

Kamui looked away with downcast eyes. The DJ's melodies sent a wave of melancholia across the club, pushing Fuuma to the edge of near insanity. The image before him was making it too unbearable for him. His fingertips trembled, aching to touch him one more time.

Forget the rules, forget the oath. Just take him away.

No. I must leave now before...

"Hey... You'll see me again. I promise," Fuuma reassured him with a smile. Kamui only nodded.

"I promise, Kamui..."

"Kamui, is it?" Seishirou asked, breaking Fuuma's thoughts. "Subaru said they're friends. How odd." Seishirou chuckled and Fuuma caught a whiff of tobacco. He hated the smell of cigarettes but for some reason, Seishirou always made it pleasant.

Fuuma nodded. Yes, he thought it was unfortunate that Seishirou's new mark turned out to be Kamui's emerald-eyed friend. Poor creature, Fuuma thought. Like with all his past victims, Seishirou planned—Fuuma's sure of this—to trample on him so hard, break every bone in his frail body, toss him away before going on to his next target. That's the nature of the Sakurazukamori and even Fuuma finds it hard to stomach as past images filled with blood and gore ruptured out of his memory bank like a series of slideshows. At least, he thought. At least he would be able to spare Kamui from that kind of sick fiasco. Can't say the same for his friend though.

"I pity him," Fuuma said. "If he were smart, he would be able to see that behind that smiling facade is a cold-hearted beast who traded off his soul for power and now wants it back by making bets."

"What can I say? Power's my weakness. For centuries I had everything, could accomplish anything. With power, I could do anything I want. Being the Sakurazukamori wasn't enough. The Sakurazukamori can still grow old and die. So I delved into the occults, found ways to trick death. I invoked you, the devil's son and I thought 'what luck!'. Turned out you had your own oath to fulfill and needed a vassal. Fair enough. You get your job done, I get to live a long long life as long as I work for you."

Fuuma listened in silence. Everything was as vivid as if it had only happened yesterday.

"Why hast thou invoked me, human?" Black mist swirled as the question erupted in echoes. A pair of crimson eyes glowered menacingly upon a kneeling man, cowering beneath a black drape.

"Speak!"

The man looked up and spoke, his face wrung with a mixture of fear and awe. "I bequeath upon thee my soul, Dark Lord."

The crimson eyes narrowed. "What dost thou want?"

"Immortality, oh Dark Lord!"

Ah, such simple desires for a simple-minded fool. Just what I need...

"Then thou shalt work for me, serve me as a vassal whilst I fulfill my oath on earth. Thou shalt hath all that thou want and for that, I shalt take thy soul."

"I cannot thank thee deeply enough, Dark Lord." The dark-haired occultist proclaimed as he bowed before the devil in adoration.

"What is thy name?"

"Seishirou of the Sakurazukamori," he replied.

"Give me thy hand," the black swirls gained momentum until the figure of a man took shape before the kneeling man. With a grasp of his hand, he took his soul and the trade was done.

"I'm getting bored, Fuuma." Fuuma was shaken out of that nostalgic moment. Like the black swirly mist, it was a thing of a past. "You can imagine how relieved I felt when you told me that the only way to break our bond was to fall in love within a year of knowing someone. You should have mentioned earlier."

"You never asked," Fuuma replied. "And I'm surprised it took you that long to ask. I expected you to last no more than a hundred years. I hate to admit it, but I gotta take my hat off to you for having come this far."

Seishirou scoffed. "Whatever. I'm a hard habit to break. Power was fun for awhile but now I'd rather have my soul back. And it's getting harder and harder to find someone I like, what more love? That's why I make bets with them even though I know I'll always end up killing them. It adds fun to my long boring ass life plus if they can't make me feel, why should they deserve a heart?"

"You didn't have to drive a hole through their chest to prove a point," Fuuma said.

"It's my Modus Operandi. Killing's a part of my birthright even before I became soulless. Anyway, I'm afraid if this keeps up, there'll be none left to kill and it'll be just you and me till the end of eternity." Seishirou's chuckled darkly.

"It's not funny."

"It's a cruel joke that's what it is. And I'm the butt of it. Heh-heh! Butt, get it, get it?"

Fuuma rolled his eyes, one of the few human traits he's learned during his time on earth.

"Anyway, enough about me. You think he's the same one?"

"I don't think. I know."

"Damn." Another row of smoke filled the air and stung Fuuma's eyes as Seishirou lit a second cigarette. "Little... bird eh?" he said between drags.

"Don't call him that," Fuuma growled, his eyes glowed dark crimson as he glared at Seishirou. But such a sight only seemed to amuse Seishirou further. The light from Fuuma's eyes dimmed. "We gotta go," he said. Seishirou shrugged, flicked his unfinished cigarette away and watched its burnt end disappear over the deck of the bridge. Then like two beastly shadows, Fuuma and Seishirou faded into the enveloping night.

A/N: I think my attempt at Old English was kinda meh. I dunno. Tell me what thou thinketh!