Gain

November 17th, 2010

Despite the ache in his lungs from abusing their endurance, Gin's feet didn't stop. He could see the burst of flame closing in, brilliant crimson waves battering a sea of blue with their relentless strike, and he knew that somewhere amid the chaos, his trophy waited. The demanding nature of his charge was enough for his body to support, but the undeniable thrill of the chase was the irresistible part. Finally, he would have his prize. For one exhilarating moment, his goal would be within his reach.

Soon, he was crashing out of his thoughts to the sight of a blazing lash carelessly sweeping the city that had become a battlefield, and a moment later, he determined that his superior was the intended victim of the strike. "Ah! Lieutenant, are you-?"

"Okazaki, draw your sword!" Seri commanded brashly. "It's bad enough that you're late, but can't you see that we are in the midst of a dangerous confrontation with HOMRA?!"

That's how he knew he was in trouble, and expectedly so. Even as he smiled apologetically towards the riled woman, he most certainly had noticed and yearned to be apart of it. "Sorry, ma'am. It won't happen again."

Nearby, Izumo flinched, settling his defensive stance to crease his brow at the sound of Gin's voice. "Wait-? Okazaki?"

"Hello, Kusanagi-san! It's been a while!" When the youth began to dash away, Gin casually waved at the disoriented bartender who he used to visit on a fairly regular basis in his past life. "I hope you're well!"

Izumo couldn't help but quirk his lips into an awkward smile. "More or less." In his next heartbeat, Izumo was lunging out of Seri's striking range, nearly losing the end of his cigarette to her deadly sword tip.

"Keep your eyes on me, HOMRA!" Seri demanded.

Her enthusiasm caused Izumo's heartrate to steadily increase as he danced around her fiery passion with a devious smirk on his face. "Believe me, Seri-chan, there's nowhere they'd rather be."

"You fiend!"

"Yeah, I guess I can be, can't I?"

'Where are you?' Gin's eyes scanned the battlefield, doing his best not to get caught up in any particular confrontation. Nothing about battling the other members of HOMRA appealed to him, and maybe that was because he'd been doing it for years. He was particularly careful to avoid Rikio, who had resisted his presence since the day they'd met. Luckily, Akira had managed to distract him from the looks of things, and he silently promised he'd thank his fellow clansmen at a later date.

Still, he ran, with no regard to how cowardly it might've made him look. He didn't care about what anyone else thought of him, how he was scorned by HOMRA or rejected by their disgusted gazes. HOMRA wasn't his target, the ever-changing horizon was. Maybe someday he would see what was at the end, and perhaps it would be the thing they all saw just before the light took them, but on the assumption that he could be the change he wanted to see was what kept him powering forward into the unknown.

Then, his second set of thanks fell to Andy when he watched the lively youth chase HOMRA's hunter out of the bustling street before begrudgingly tethering himself to Kōsuke. Fate worked in funny ways, is what he thought as his beaming grin intensified. There she waited, alone and unmanned, his prize glistening with the reflective sheen of her dedication to the hunt. And all the while, she never anticipated that the tables were about to turn.

His heart was choking him as it crept up his throat with the need to call to her by name. Look! Look what I did! We can be friends now! But he kept quiet, watching her catch her breath for a moment of silent appreciation. She rose against all the odds and never gave up on finding her place in a cold world, and maybe what he should have told her years ago was that it was one of his biggest inspirations.

But the world wasn't cold anymore, it was on fire, and the spark about to dance between them would fill the night with excitement. That's what encouraged him to take his first fearless step towards her. "I know what you're going to say." He knew she was startled. He could see the sentiment welling up in her beautifully expressive eyes, just waiting for the right moment to spill over between them. "And yes. I did run all the way here."

He reached to his face, gently peeling his glasses from his eyes, folding the crimson frames and tucking them away. "Not that it's all too surprising since I've been trying to keep up with you since middle school." He didn't expect the challenge before him to be merciful with his punishment, he anticipated the savage blaze to ignite their lives in all shades of revenge, and it was exhilarating. She was a terrifying beauty, and maybe she was unachievable. Still, the thrill he received just by reconnecting their gazes after he'd taken a resilient stand against her filled him with consolation.

He swept his bangs to the side, locking his focussed russet leer on her fierce sapphire eyes burning with life. "But I'm here now. Ready to be a part of your world."

The fire raged, and he felt the heat she exuded before her body ever combusted. That fire, much like his own, burned with a purpose. He understood it now. The day that Munakata Reisi invited him to be a member of SCEPTRE4, that fire kindled. Maybe their flames were opposing colours, and they burned differently, but the passion they felt for their kings connected them in ways that rivals might have a hard time comprehending at first.

Burn with me, he wanted to whisper. Gin could barely keep his fingers from trembling as he released the latch on Tsuiseki, sliding the blade musically from its keep. He watched it tease her luscious lips, the smile that lingered in the wake of her sparkling eyes to shine, and then it exploded across her face. Her pearly teeth lined in a deceitfully wholesome beam that had told him she was battling a wash of grateful tears. It was the moment he lived for up until it was in his grasp, and like a butterfly being born after a cold winter, her wings spread, and the flames carried the beautiful memory from his sights.

"Okazaki, ready."

From that day forward, he would chase the next distant goal until he felt the rush of triumph fill his belly with butterflies for another fleeting moment. It was the promise his king had made, a promise of purpose. Maybe that resolve wasn't to chase fantasies, but with every whim he indulged, he felt closer to absolution. For that reason, he would power forward, his boots wearing through the pavement with his dedicated charge, all so he could hear the words:

"Welcome to my world, Gin."

As stated, when the Blue King took his hand and opened up his world.