Indiscriminate Happenings
Fandom: xxxHoLiC
Characters/Pairing: Doumeki, Watanuki
Prompt:8:7- Eternity
Rating: T+
Chapter Genre: Sadly attempted Humour...?
Summary: 'Prologue' to 'Last Good-Bye.' There are an infinite number of ways to meet people; this had to be one of the most interesting.
I

When he was trapped down in that underground lab, needles poked into him, tubes leading out of him, and himself half sedated and numb, the scientists in the midst of recreating his body and making him into something else told him that he would live for eternity as a biological weapon, a bionic life form whose emotions and humanity had been removed to make him perfect. In the beginning he was; he murdered ruthlessly and remorselessly, aim true and lethal. He remained that way for the remainder of his teenage years, mindlessly switching his body to maximize its use.

Until he met Doumeki Shizuka.

It was during the war. Doumeki was drafted in, like all the men his age, and he was resting against a tree just on the outskirts of their camp, listening to the laughter and romping. Watanuki, having been brought in during the raid earlier and left to his own devices and wanderings, apathetically explored the base, eying the arranged defenses surrounding them and picking out every weak spot and hole, the computer chip in his brain automatically providing the means to fix them. He was temporarily distracted by a sharp twinge of pain that coursed through his entire body and it lasted just long enough for him to trip over Doumeki's outstretched legs.

As he hit the ground his wrist was caught under his body, the weight snapping the bone and tearing the skin. He laid still, allowing the nano mites in his body to mend the broken appendage.

Doumeki thought there was something wrong with him. Mentally.

"Oi," he groused, gritting his teeth and the interruption of his peace. His bounced his knee, the feet still perched on his legs moving with them. Finally the still form stirred, slowly pushing himself up from his position and backing off of the larger man. Wide blue eyes blinked up at him, partially hidden behind narrow glasses.

"My name is not 'Oi,'" he responded, a small frown quirking on his lips. Doumeki stared back, an answering almost-glower on his face. He grunted, recrossing his arms and leaning back. The frown turned into a scowl, life beginning to seep into the white facial features. Personally Doumeki thought it was a huge improvement from the stone dead expression that had been worn before. "My name is-"

"1.04, your presence is required," a voice a few feet away called, tone demanding. It was obvious, to both of them, that it was an order from someone who thought themselves superior to him but he was designed to follow, not lead, and he thought no more on the subject. Watanuki stood fluidly, nodding to the man, the last twinges of irrational irritation wearing off and his blank mask returning. Doumeki's eyes narrowed but he refrained from commenting, watching the grace that replaced the earlier clumsiness.

"1.04...?"
II

The next opportunity Doumeki had to see the strange yet intriguing man was on the battlefield. Being a priest he had never upheld the ideals of the current government (remove all opposition by any means necessary) and tried his best to keep an eye out for his fellow soldiers for the majority of the conflict, shooting only when it was absolutely inevitable (such as to save a comrades life or keep his own). He was praised by his commanders for his aim and precision but it was all disregarded; he wasn't proud of his talents.

Doumeki was in the midst of making an impromptu splint for a comrade when the tank was rolled in, providing cover for those it happened to move in front of and those that had enough sense to take cover behind the armored vehicle. He bodily grabbed the man and easily transferred him to suitable cover. As he worked he assessed their surroundings, watching a slender figure lift itself out of the transport, jumping out and landing lightly beside Doumeki and his patient, oddly glowing eyes blinking at the sight of him. They stared for what couldn't have been for more than a few seconds before a deep, booming voice rudely interrupted them, the dark head snapping immediately to look at their superior.

"1.04! Commence the attack!"

Then he was gone, two guns already in hand and three more strapped on various places on his body, bullets flying everywhere, hitting only the enemy. Their men stopped everything, staring in wonder as the strange man worked, barely moving an inch except when he was forced to advance. The opposition began to retreat, soldiers in blue running as fast as possible, tripping over bodies, vegetation, each other, and themselves, desperately trying to get away from the personified weapon.

None survived.

That day they left the massacre site in record time. But despite the amount of death saved on their side there was an air of depression choking their camp. The commanders themselves seemed the only ones immune, all drinking and laughing heartily at their triumph. The entire time the man known only as '1.04' sat either at their side, in the branches of the highest tree in camp, or on the roof of the mess hall, listening to the men quietly talk instead of the annoying gloating.

As he made the transition between his favored tree and the mess hall he once again became so lost within his own endlessly wandering mind that he lost focus on that small part of his surroundings and his toe caught under the flesh of an outstretched leg, toppling him. Again an injury was acquired; a dead branch, thick and jagged, speared through his ribs. Blood pooled around his torso and his breath caught in his throat, pain immediately causing his body to tremble. Doumeki was about to speak, say something to get the emotionless entity riled, when he felt warm liquid soak his pant leg and the tense, shaking body sprawled over his lap.

"Oi," he growled, carefully flipping the man, eyes growing wide at the sight of the protruding stick. Hurriedly he repositioned the smaller man, unsure of what was in risk and what was safe to attempt; as often as he played doctor on the field, he had very little medical knowledge and this certainly did not fit into any of the categories that represented his skills. He was saved from having to make a decision, however, when the other grabbed the branch and violently removed it. Doumeki could only watch in horror and slowly growing fascination as the wound began to mend itself, skin and flesh knitting back together and blood replenishing inhumanely fast.

"I'm fine," he interrupted before Doumeki could open his mouth.

"How did you heal so fast?" he demanded, lips turning down. "That should have almost killed you."

"It nearly did." The dark haired head tilted, eyes glancing down at the lightly scarring patch of skin on his torso. "My programming and technology won't allow that, however."

"Programming?" Doumeki question, expression still schooled into his near-scowl. "Technology? What are you, a biological weapon?"

"Yes." Blue eyes blinked up at him. "They didn't inform you all of my participation in this conflict?"

"We don't even know your name, much less your intended part in the war."

"Oh." The eyes, though not glowing as iridescently as before, had an unnatural shine. "And my name is not 'Oi,' for your information."

"Then what is your name?" Doumeki asked with a smirked, a pleased feeling swelling up in him when the first evidence of emotion once more appeared on the pale face. It was the beginnings of annoyance, which was still technically a negative emotion, but it was still better than absolute apathy.

"It's Watanuki Kimihiro."
III
Okay, this was getting too long, so I cut it off here. It'll be continued every time I find an appropriate prompt, since people seemed to like it so much. :)

Oh god~!!!! . Antonio (Spain) has repeatedly grabbed Lovino's () hair curly (erogenous zone)!!!! It's making me giggle~! If anyone here is not into Hetalia, please, please go check it out. There's 32 episodes that I'm aware of and a lot of scanlation's on LJ. P.S. Ivan (Russia) has branded Yao's (China) a*s. D Well, that's what some of us have decided; it could yet be a panda, but Ivan's dressed up as one before so still... :D