Title: Esoteric Desires
Author: Vampiress22
Rating: PG-13 ( T )
Challenge: Fearless Hearts
Pairing: ItaHina

We ask that you PLEASE refrain from reviewing this story here. If you would like to do so, the original is posted right here on ff. net in Vampiress22's (aka, Vampiress22 on DA) personal profile.

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i.

Secretive

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Pale eyes, a straight nose, soft lips, and snow-white cheeks. She was the girl who sat on the playground's wooden boards adjacent from the winding, yellow slide—isolated from the others who surrounded the area. Ambitious faces matched content smiles, but she was the one who caught his eye. She was what one would call "an outcast," standing far beyond the other children's reach. Her soft lips, arched down; nose, runny; pale eyes, closed and disapproving what surrounded her; snow-white cheeks, tear-streaked; and a boy walked her way.

His hair was black, and matching eyes looked at her—awestruck. Exasperation didn't take over him, but only a bit of annoyance. Confused. Mistook. Misunderstood. Misconception. And so he went that way, strolling over. Young, at thirteen, he asked her, walking that way, sun dropping down, sky turning away, What are you doing?

She stared at him, confused at first, but then understood, taking one word at a time—slowly. It's a secret, she said softly. Her head arched back, her eyes gazing up, and he stared at her. She didn't bother to look his way, knowing the face, knowing the pale face so well. She'd seen him in the halls of school. He was older than her—thirteen. She was nine, young and oblivious to little details of what had just happened, of what was to come. No fighting, no standing up to anyone, how did she know anything about hate, he mused.

A secret...he repeated. What about it? he asked. Still wondering why the clouds were covering the sky...the brightness fading away from it—from her. A nine-year-old girl was so clueless about what it meant to hate. Strong and risqué. Lyrical lies; that was hate. Get a grip, he shouted at her, as her sobs grew greater, and she just silently wiped away the cries. The damn girl had a thought of her own. And he had never really cared for any other than his own— own being, of course.

Her legs stopped swinging from side to side, and she caught a glance of the boy. Can you keep a secret? The boy fell into sudden shock. He had never been asked if he had a secret to share, let alone holding one for someone else. It struck him by surprise, but this girl wasn't like any other. This little girl was more interesting than he had expected. His expression changed from his angry and inattentive one to a solemn and sweet expression.

He nodded his head as she pointed towards the sky. Hate, she breathed out. Hate, there is too much hate. The pestiferous things done in the world, everything in world, there was just too much of it. He knew that. But she didn't know what hate meant. She didn't know the hardships of hate, and disclosure of loathing something. It would be new to her and so old for him.

Yes, there is too much, but I can fix it, he told her.

She stared his way, oblivious to the obscure facts of life. How? she asked. Her mouth turned small, her eyes attentive, and he leaned from one side to the other.

Halloween is tomorrow night. Dress up as Hate for me, okay.

But, why?

He started to chuckle at the little girl. Because, if you're the only one dressed up as Hate, no one else can be. Then, there won't be so much hate. There will only be you. And you're too nice to make anything miserable.

The thirteen-year-old began to walk away, away from the younger girl sitting by the playground.

Wait, she shouted, towards him, ever so softly.

His head turned, his eyes looked her way, wanting to go now, but he waited. He waited for her. Do you promise?

Promise what? he asked. This was a rather annoying girl, but probably the best conversation he had had in ages. No, he contradicted himself; she was probably the most interesting girl he had met in ages.

She smiled, cautiously. That I'll be the only Hate?

He nodded his head. I promise that you will be the only Hate in this world.

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ii.

Mysterious

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Day turns to a cold October night. Extravagant to the naked eyes of the invincible five-year-olds and all smiles for a scare for the nine-year-olds—that was Halloween. Moreover, as he walked through the thoroughly lit streets full of pedestrians lugging around large sacks, angry parents, telling their kids it was time to go back home, and little costumes of ghosts and devils lurking from here to there—he wondered how naive he had been when he was younger.

His brother was wandering in front of him. A nine-year-old costume with something different, serene, and mysterious—that was his younger brother.

However, when he looked down at the little boy he still replayed the same conversation in his mind. On and on, miles and miles away in his head. Leaves rustled in the wind's whispering melodies. And he wondered if he had told her the right thing. To become hate, the rest would vanish, how stupid of himself, he thought. He knew that would never come to life, he knew it was not real, and what was he thinking?

But there she was, pastel skin, dark hair, and walking to the same house as his brother. Instead she stopped before she got there, stopping right in front of him. The boy looked down at her, seeing the tiny glint in her eyes.

I'm Hate, remember? she said with such ease. Her voice sounded sweet, unlike before, so confident, so mesmerizing. Autumn leaves sprinkled over

There stood before him, just a girl, the same girl as before, no mask, no fake sword, no glop of false blood, just a girl, all alone next to him.

Hate is everywhere, just like you said, he recited. Hate can be in everyone. No costume can compare.

She smiled for the slightest second. And walked away with the leaves, which rustled the wind's whispering melodies. And she was gone with one last thing to say to the young boy. Older and wiser than her, he was, but she saw beyond his deception. You have hate locked up inside of you. You haven't gotten rid of it.

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iii.

Blank Stares

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It was twenty years later, twenty years had passed and time which had brought him to her. Sitting on a bench, he was there, age thirty-three, unmarried, uninterested in anyone but his brother. He waited there for his bus to arrive, to lead him to the hospital where his brother remained. His brother was sick, leukemia striking him, and now he remained in such a state that he couldn't even comprehend what was going on. Only he went to see his younger brother. Only he bothered to go there and wonder of the fate that was set up for him.

But as he saw her, window wide-open, same face, pale and perfect, he could only laugh to himself and think of what a coincidence this had become. Meeting, meeting her hate again, how silly.

Therefore, he turned away from her, only to muse the simple facts of why she was here and what had brought two people who rarely knew each other together again.

Still, it was all in the past. It didn't matter anymore, he now thought. Therefore, he entered the public bus as it crossed his path.

There were more important things on his mind then her.

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iv.

Crossed Paths

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Yet again, he saw her, this time by the door of the apartment building. Her head was turned in the opposite direction and her posture was so perfect compared to the old, nine-year-old girl he had seen before. He didn't even know her name. He didn't know who she was.

But for one thing, he wanted to find out.

So he did the one thing he could. He walked over to her. He crossed her path, he passed her way, and a smile crawled up his face. Remember me, Hate? Do you remember how I saved you?

We meet again, he said nonchalantly, his words flowing so smoothly. He was facing her now, only inches taller this time, but he didn't tower over her. Her beauty was secluded either, though. Her hair shined brightly, her eyes were wide and stunning, and her mouth moved with every word she was about to speak.

Yes, we meet again. Her voice was still the same, soft-spoken but heard. No one-word answers this time, though. She grinned as well.

It was only coincidental that we would meet, you know, he told her.

Why? she asked.

He could only chuckle at the foolish, little comment she had made. Things strike people. Disease and distress take over them…and others. My brother is suffering something like that right now.

Aa. Her eyes stared at the ground, not knowing what to say. I'm…sorry.

No, don't be. We discussed this before. He sighed, waiting a few moments to find his former words and say them once again. You have hate locked up inside of you. You can't get rid of it. No one can.

She nodded her head. Yes, you did say that. But you never exactly told me why.

He beckoned her to sit beside him on the bench, and she followed, crossing her legs and staring upon his masculine face.

And so he spoke softly to her, hoping she would understand, understand everything as clearly as he did. Hate restores a balance within someone. Hate balances out love.

He missed his bus that day.

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Sometimes hate never vanishes. Sometimes hate takes over you until all you have left is love.