Well; time to brush up on my writing again. And what better way than with my favorite trio of freaks, the Raijinshuu! Anyway, I'm aiming to get out (roughly) 100 chapters, ranging from comedy to tragedy; to everything in between (though I probably won't do romance much). Also, because this will range over a long time frame, I'll try to slowly fill in their pasts as I like to see them ^_^ Anyway, any sort of comment/critique is greatly welcome.

I. Blood

They were very familiar with blood. Even before they met and became the Raijinshuu; there was always blood.

For Freed, it was just another thing to be accepted. After all, a prestigious family needed to stay on top, so by all means - an eye for an eye. Of course, he was involved with little physical blood. Why would the rich dirty their hands? But oh; was there blood in that house. Sure, it was invisible, but every 'buissness partner' that walked through that door wore it like an old sweater. And every one walked out even worse. Every poisonous look passed around the table (that is, when anyone bothered to eat there) reeked of death. Every breath of air was tight and calculated, and hung in the air like a disease. Never mind if the child dared to disobey an order - there was blood there, too. So of course he kept his head down. What would he even say, when all of it came so...easily. Indeed, to Freed, blood was a second nature.

And even as he slipped away, the thought teased him without mercy: could one really leave behind that kind of second nature?

Bickslow knew it a little more literally. After all, he grew up on the streets, in a cold place with cold people. He learned how to run and fight early on because if he didn't...well, put plutly, he was very familiar with blood. Of course, it didn't bother him as much, perhaps, as it should've. But why should it? Everybody's made of blood, and if you lost it, well then, you were just too stupid or too weak. What else was there? Blood taught him another lesson early on: people died, and couldn't be trusted. He had watched enough people die tomknow that. So of course he made other friends - less mortal friends. It didn't seem odd to him, not really. After all, how could he know that most poeple don't talk to souls and dolls? To Bickslow, blood was just a part of the daily landscape.

Of course, as a homeless street-rat, he himself was just a rotting piece of the landscape, too. Detested yet inevitable; for years that was all people ever could see. Blood on the street.

Evergreen hated blood. It was dirty, and gross, and was always impossible to get out of clothes. But for someone who tried to keep away from it, she was always stuck back with it. It wasn't her fault, though. She didn't ask for the rocks to come flying when she walked down the streets. She didn't ask for the window to explode, seemingly on its own accord, on that night. And she certainly hadn't asked for all of the blood that coated the bathroom floor when her Mother had lost herself to the stress. But what could be said? After all, she turned people into stone, and couldn't undo it. She had heard it enough that it had become fact ages ago. Simply put, Evergreen was a demon. Sent straight from the depths of Hell, according to the neighbor boy. Cursed to curse.

So wasn't it inevitable? That blood would be drawn to a demon like a moth was to the light. As much as she tried to ecscape it, Ever knew blood, too.

Birds of a feather indeed.

Next up: 'Chocolate'