Warning: Character death

"The sky is beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

Sinbad turned to smile at the mysterious man beside him. He didn't know why he felt so comfortable in the man's presence, especially when all he could discern of the man was a smile and pale skin. The rest of the facial features were still shrouded in darkness, as if he was watching one of those old movies with black borders obscuring most of the image.

At least I could see his mouth now. Just a few more days, and I might be able to see him fully. At first, Sinbad could only hear the man's voice, whom he inferred was younger than him based off the voice's higher registration. After that, he caught glimpses of a pair of black shoes and white robes. Now he was finally seeing some facial features. Just a few more days, and the face might reveal itself.

"Ne, Sin, what do you think will happen soon?"

Sinbad was brought out of his meditation by the agitated tone in the man's voice. He didn't know why he felt a sudden chill run down his back. The question was begging for something bad to happen. But nothing would happen, would it? Not with the countless stars smiling back at them from the heavens above, nor the soothing brush of grasses beneath them. The whole place was too idyllic for something bad to taint it. "I…I don't know."

"Things aren't looking good. They refused to sign the treaties again."

What treaties? Who are 'they'? Why are you mentioning them again? Sinbad wanted to question the mysterious man. Somehow he felt that he should know the answers, but they continually evade him. Ever since a few weeks ago, the man had started mentioning an elusive group of people, treaties and wars. Things that only appear in fairy tales or historical records.

With each encounter they had, the man seemed more and more urgent. What was plaguing him? Sinbad wanted to ask so badly, but his mouth refused to move.

"You know, Sin," the mysterious man resumed, not waiting for a response from him. "If anything were to happen, just know that I will always be by your side."

A surge of something warm and sad crossed Sinbad's chest. He felt an unknown joy at hearing those words from the man, but also an intense sadness. The statement implied that something bad will happen. He turned and hugged the man's tiny frame to him, closing his eyes in the process as he tried to will away the melancholic sensations in his chest.

"It will be alright, I promise you. It will be."

"Sin."

"Sin."

"Hey, Sinbad!"

Sinbad lurched up from his bed as he heard his name shouted in his ears. His limbs entangled in the cumbersome sheets, and he fell in a heap, blanket and all, onto the ground.

"Well, he's awake."

Sinbad recognized Sharrkan's voice. The dark-skinned man was a dearly beloved drinking friend of his, but also quite annoying at times when he went too far with his teasing. Now would be one of those moments.

He became aware that others were in his room as well. There was the unmistakable lilting giggle from Pisti, the twin sighs of exasperation from Masrur and Drakon, the argumentative voices of Sharrkan and Yamuraiha in the background, the slightly uncertain voice of Spartos and the booming laughter from Hinahoho. They were all associates that he had met throughout his career, and whom he had built strong bonds with. They were like his family.

"Are you okay?" Spartos queried as he helped Sinbad sort through the jumble of fabric mess. The older man only grumbled incoherently and nodded.

"Well then, we will leave you to get ready on your own. Breakfast is already downstairs. Be sure to join us before Sharrkan and Pisti finish it." Hinahoho said as he ushered the younger colleagues out.

You would be there to help me dress and reprimand them, won't you? Sinbad thought absentmindedly, but then halted when he realized what had just crossed his mind. The unexpected feeling of déjà vu came back. There were flashes of Sharrkan and Pisti dressed in loose-sleeved robes gorging on exotic-looking dishes. Yamuraiha was dressed scantily with a ridiculously large hat on her head, pouring over a leather-bound book. Masrur, like his usual self, was in a corner by himself, eating contentedly. But he was more muscular, and wore golden armors that were highly unusual in design. And then all of a sudden, someone with a white robe came gliding through the doors elegantly and Pisti and Sharkkan cowered in terror. The person resumed lecturing the two on their eating manners. Sinbad squinted, trying to make out who that person was. Yet once again, all he could see was darkness hiding the facial features from him.

Just as suddenly as it came, these flashes vaporized into thin air, leaving an uncomfortably empty feeling behind. Sinbad closed his eyes as he thought back on all the strange happenings occurring lately. Correction, ever since this estate was bought.

I must be going mad.

~oOo~

There was a reason why the mere mention of 'Sinbad' could shake the corporate world. The man, despite his young age, had achieved success beyond anyone's imagination. Starting at the bottom rungs of business hierarchy, Sinbad's alluring charisma and his terrifyingly ambitious persistence pulled him to the top. The young business man had created seven brand name companies, of which he let his seven close friends overlooked one company each.

With enough fortune to last him a lifetime, Sinbad took up temporary traveling. It was during one of his travels that he came upon an island resort located in a remote area on the world map. Trade on the island was flourishing due to the abundant natural resources and queer looking creatures which attracted tourists from far and wide.

The moment Sinbad stepped foot on the island, he was in love. Who wouldn't love the welcoming citizens? The hot, shifting sand that crept between one's toes and scorched one's sole? Or the clear blue expense above and below, acting like mirrors of one another? It was perfect and he immediately bought a large piece of land on top of a hill overlooking the island. Plans were drawn to build a summer house there.

This year marked the first year that he visited the house, and he was delighted by the exotic tastes of the architecture. The design borrowed many ideas from the locals: white, durable clay used as wall materials to fence off the blistering heat and retain the coolness inside. The windows faced the North, avoiding direct sunlight during midday. They were nothing but holes set high in the wall, which allowed for the passage of air freely into and out of the rooms, continually bringing in the smell of sea. Long corridors stretched in various directions, creating a labyrinth-like network connecting rooms to one another, some of it connecting to the town below as well. There was also an abundance of vegetation surrounding the building to reduce overexposure to sunlight. Everything was topped off with blue dome roofs, reflecting the blue sky above.

Sinbad had invited his seven other friends to join him for the summer months, and they gladly accepted, driven by an unknown urge to visit the place. When they arrived, each of them felt a deep connection to the place, as if they were returning home. Yet none knew why.

It was also then that Sinbad started seeing shadows of ghosts. The first time was when he first stepped through the main doorway. He swore he saw someone at the end of the corridor, head bowing and hands clasped together. With the blink of an eye, the figure was gone. The second time was when he examined the study room with fake scrolls inserted into build-in shelves. He heard someone sighed "Get back to work" passingly in his ear. Once again, there was no one else besides him. Other times were in different parts of the summer house. He thought he heard things – muffled snippets of conversation when no one else was there and movements constantly from the corner of his eyes. His other colleagues have denied experiencing such phenomenon, though they did feel an uncanny nostalgia of the place.

Then there were the dreams. It started occurring every night: flashes of halcyon days residing within a thriving kingdom, adventures through magnificent places called 'dungeons' and meeting new people of all variety of shapes and sizes. Those dreams were hauntingly real – his five senses actually picked up on all the tiny details of the dreams. Strangely enough, many of the settings were quite similar to that of his summer house.

And then came desperation, fear, and…excitement? In his dream world, there were talks of invasions and conquests, a dark organization, death. All of which were quite foreign to Sinbad. There was also the sense of foreboding that would not leave him.

~oOo~

This time it was raining. Dark, ominous-looking clouds blocked out the sun, transforming the azure sky into blackness. Occasional lightning streaks broke through the clouds, snapping angrily as they reached down for the ocean, but never quite touching. In turn, the waves tried to reach up towards the sky. Failing to do so, they crashed back into the open waters, sending sea sprays everywhere. The wind completed the picture by howling wildly, threatening to break things in its path.

Somehow, all these were lost upon him as he glared into the distance, where he thought he could see orange dots, regardless of how dark it was. Some unknown rage was boiling inside of him.

"Sin, please come in. Standing out here and getting cold is not going to change the situation." A soft voice drifted through the ruckus of wind and waves, entreating him to return to his chambers.

No. The comforts of the bedroom were just lies when everything else was so, so wrong. Besides, he relished in the painful feeling of sand-bearing wind hitting him. At least it fueled his anger, his hatred.

"Sin, I know that it is hard to bear, but please accept the fact that they are gone. Nothing could be done about it." This time a pair of slender hands attempted to steer him back to the room by grabbing onto his shoulders.

"No," Sinbad replied resolutely as he shrugged the hands roughly off. "Something could be done about it. Only if I was there…I could stop it, no, stop them from burning the ships, sending all those helpless souls into the depths of the oceans. It is only my negligence that-" He didn't even know what he was rambling about, but it felt like he was someone else. His mouth was entirely speaking on its own accord and he just allowed it.

The hands snaked around his waist as he felt someone burrowed themselves into his back. "It is not your fault. No man could foresee the future, anticipate the attack from them. You tried your best. Please come back inside before you get sick. Think on behalf of the people who cared for you."

With those few words, the fight escaped from Sinbad's body and he sagged visibly forward, steadied only by the pair of hands on his waist. There were truth in those words, but it didn't make it any less difficult to bear.

The hands felt so comforting as they lead him back into the room, shielded from the storm outside.

"Thank you." Sinbad murmured as he lost himself to unconsciousness.

"You know I will always be supporting you, even if the world ends."

That you will.

~oOo~

Sinbad blinked.

And blinked again as he looked at the clock, then the window, and then the clock again.

5:30 A.M.

It was not like him to wake up so early and he was surprised to find tear stains on his cheek. Why was he crying again?

Seeing that he had no inclination to sleep, Sinbad treaded through his summer house, admiring the construction when it was still dark. Admittedly, the summer house was more like a summer palace, what with its extensive towers and buildings. But that was how he liked it.

Suddenly, a dark shadow walked out from a door and turned a corner. Sinbad was stunned for a while, but immediately chased after it. What if it was a robber – never mind, it was not like he minded robbers that much anyways. This was an island for god's sake; no one could escape it that easily. So who was the person then?

As he rounded the corner, the figure walked off into another corridor. It continued like that for a long while – every time Sinbad thought he caught up, the figure would just disappear and emerge at another spot. Logic would tell him that something was seriously wrong with this figure, but Intuition told him to follow it regardless.

"Wait!" Sinbad shouted as he reached his hand out. "Don't go!"

The figure stopped abruptly and turned slightly, though the lack of light in the hallways made it impossible to see the face. What Sinbad could see though, was a gentle smile. The figure turned again and disappeared into the shadows.

"Hey-!" Sinbad was truly shocked when he realized that the figure just disappeared like that. Not even a trace left behind.

Maybe he woke up too early after all.

~oOo~

"They will be knocking on our gates soon. Get prepared." Sinbad gritted his teeth. He could feel them now, the dark cloud of energy not far off. Oh, how he longed for this day. He still remembered his helpless men as they burn in the middle of the sea.

There was tension in the air, so thick that Sinbad could almost shred it through with the sword attached to his hip. If they wanted to fight, he was more than willing to accommodate them. He stroke the hilt appreciatively as it hummed with energy underneath his hands.

"They are much stronger than before, what with the black Magi on their side. The prospect is not good." The mysterious man suddenly emerged beside him, his hands folded into his sleeves. Sinbad still couldn't make out the man's face, though he was starting to see the tip of a nose.

It normally didn't irked Sinbad, but with the rushing blood pulsing inside his veins begging for revenge, the mysterious man's pessimism was irritating. "If you want to hide, feel free to. By no means stop because of me."

Ah, he hadn't meant for it to come out that harsh. Too late to keep his mouth shut now.

The man visibly stiffened beside him, but only for a while. "I understand your impatience, Sin. But please don't rush to battle without a strategy and backup plan at hand. We must wait for the spies to return first."

While that soothing tone usually worked on him, it only boiled him over with anger now. "And wait for them to break down the gates? Just in case you don't remember, they aren't exactly the most polite of people. You can't expect them to knock before they come in."

"I am just saying-"

"And I am saying that you are acting like a hypochondriac. Get out of here if you are scared of them. I do not need to have a feeble-hearted person by my side right now." Seriously, stop talking, Sinbad thought to himself, yet he couldn't help but dig deeper into the wound with his empty verbal accusations.

"You should know by now that I am anything but! Unlike you, I keep my head in a battle!" The man raised his voice now.

"GET OUT!" Sinbad yelled, not wanting to be reminded of his own rashness.

There was an awkward silence between the two of them after Sinbad's outburst. Finally, the man sighed and bowed his head. "If you wish."

Just before exiting though, the man turned one last time. "I am not against you in anyways. If this is what you want, I will follow you no matter what."

Sinbad gasped as he turned around, enough to just catch a glimpse of sad eyes. Odd, he never saw anyone with such black pupils before. And was that silver hair?

He was interrupted by a loud sizzle and simultaneous screams of horror as the barrier around the island melted. So it has started.

"Baal, dwell in my body right now."

~oOo~

"Hey, a foreign caravan is arriving in the island tomorrow, or so I heard." Sharrkan announced as he waltzed into the living room. "We should check it out. I heard they came from a small village in the North where it snowed all year round."

"I want to go!" Pisti piped out, always fascinated with something new.

"They wouldn't happen to be the one with the special wire tricks?" Yamuraiha inquired from her seat. "I heard they were a traveling band, constantly moving about the world."

"And that is why we should go," Sharrkan grinned. "Who knows when we will catch sight of them again?"

Everyone turned to look at Sinbad. He was the boss, after all.

"I…suppose we could go," Sinbad said dismissively, still perturbed by last night's dream. He couldn't erase the memory of those sad eyes as it disappeared through the doorway.

The seven other associates could tell that something was bothering Sinbad lately and that he wanted to be left along to ponder it over. One by one, they silently left the living room, giving Sinbad the space he needed.

"I did it again, didn't I? I pushed you and the others away all the time because of my own stupidity," Sinbad muttered to himself as he rested his forehead against his hands. From the corner of his eye, he saw a pair of black shoes and the white hem of a robe. "I didn't mean it."

"I know you didn't." Was the soft sigh before the figure disappeared from his vision.

~oOo~

A wise old man used to say to him: there are no victors in wars. It is only a matter of which side loses the most men.

Sinbad had never truly grasped the concept till now as he watched people fall around him. His only consolation was that there were an equal amount of Kou's people as there were Sindrians that fell. He was also dimly aware that none of the old, young and women were anywhere in sight. He must have evacuated them. At least he could focus on the battle at hand.

"Hand over Sindria, there is no way that you could win against a nation with five dungeon capturers backed by a Magi."

Ah, that must be whom they call the flame emperor. "It didn't seem like the five dungeon capturers would do you any good when you are equally wounded as I am, and when my eight generals are more than enough to deal with them." It was true; the eight generals were handling themselves pretty well against the onslaught. He left out the Magi part because he knew how true the statement was. Having a Magi on one's side is equivalent to victory.

"We will see about that." A flurry of flames flew in his direction.

Sinbad fired lightning back towards the flame, creating a huge explosion when the two attacks met. It was clear that the both of them were already at their limits as they changed from one equip to the other. Again and again they clashed, hoping to bring the other down. Both the armies were also in similar states of disarray, and therefore it is high time that one of the leaders end the battle.

Sinbad was so preoccupied with that notion that he failed to notice a more malign magical entity creeping up behind him.

"Hey, stupid king, I'm bored." The short statement was accompanied by hundreds of icicle flying towards the two kings. Belatedly both of them realized that Judal didn't care one way or the other who got hurt in the outcome. They tried to disentangle themselves from one another as things seemed to happen in slow motion.

As Sinbad struggled to dodge the attacks with his wounded body, he saw one particularly large icicle heading straight for his chest. At the current rate, he could do nothing to stop it other than shield his arms protectively in front of his chest and snap his eyes shut. Above the crashing din of chaos, Sinbad was dimly aware of feeling warmth as he was hauled off his feet. Someone was pulling him quickly to the side.

"Sin, Sin! Are you okay?" Someone shook him roughly.

Should you even shake a wounded man? Sinbad chanced his eyes open slightly to see the mysterious man, except that he wasn't that mysterious now that Sinbad could see all his facial features, down to the freckles that dust his cheeks.

"Ja…Ja'far?"

Ja'far visibly relaxed. "Thank heavens you are fine. I thought I made it too late."

"Yea-" Something was not right. Ja'far's voice sounded too weak and tired, and that wouldn't happen unless he stayed up for three nights in a row. And why were there red all over his robes? "Ja'far…"

"You need to get out of here, fast. The Kou army is temporarily cowed because of Judal's crazy attacks-" There was a few coughs and some crimson liquid managed to escape his lips. "There's not much time left." Ja'far collapsed against Sinbad.

Only then did the gaping hole in the young man's back become obvious. There were even some ice particles still clinging onto the flesh. The warmth Sinbad felt earlier had been Ja'far's life blood splattering all over him. Even in this state, the former assassin did not display any trace of pain.

No, no, no. This is not happening. "Hey," Sinbad said in a shaky voice as he tried to tilt Ja'far's chin up. "Don't joke around. We need to get out of here. Come on, get up, do something."

Ja'far scoffed softly at Sinbad. "Still as stubborn as ever. You should already know that nothing can change the situation." And he was right. The icicle managed to damage most of his vital organs beyond repair. Even now, he could feel his insides slowly turning cold as the ice spread through his body.

"You said that you will follow me till the end!" Sinbad shouted, feeling for the first time the warm sting of tears in his eyes.

"Sorry, I lied. Guess old habits die hard." Ja'far smiled up at his king. At least he performed a final service to the man before he goes. "Ah, just remember to not let the office work pile up too much when I…"

"Stop talking, you know you would be fine!" Sinbad shouted desperately, but realized belatedly that Ja'far had stopped breathing. He looked so peaceful even with the blood pooling around his body. Sinbad allowed himself to weep publicly for the first time as he clung onto the smaller man.

I promise you, I would find you in my next life, and the life after that. I would keep on chasing until I find you and make you apologize for lying to me.

All Sinbad remembered after that was just seeing red.

~oOo~

The caravan lived up to its name. Thousands of people – tourists and locals alike – flocked to the market square to watch the show. Thankfully, Sinbad's money had paid well for the eight of them to be located at a spot near the front.

As the performance time approached, the lights dimmed on the stage. The only visible props were dark red wires strung haphazardly across the stage. The performers that filed in onto the stage all wore strange clothing with red wires crisscrossed across their arms. They performed many spectacular tricks with the wires, making wonderful dances and effects.

While the performance was going on, Sinbad was hardly paying attention. In his mind's eyes, he kept on replaying the last few scenes of his dreams. Ja'far was beautiful, even when he was covered with blood. Sinbad subconsciously trace Ja'far's smile on his lap, trying hard to ingrain the picture forever into his memory.

"Now for our final finale, the quickest, the quietest and the deadliest of them all, we present to you, the Assassin!" The announcer shouted into his microphone as he was greeted by cheers from the audience. Once again, the lights dimmed except for one.

A gasp of awe went through the audience as the spotlight shone upon a bandaged performer that leapt through the air and landed on one of the wires. He executed a few revolutions in the air while switching between wires, never once missing his footing. A flurry of papers was released from the air, and the Assassin swung his blades about, swiftly cutting through the pieces and carving patterns from the paper.

While most people were mesmerized by the performance, Sinbad kept his eyes keenly on the performer. There was something immensely familiar about that shock of white hair, lithe frame and black eyes.

"Now we need a volunteer for the next performance! Your one and only chance to be on stage with the Assassin!" The announcer looked around.

Before he even knew what he was thinking, Sinbad's hand shot up into the air with such great fervor that it shocked Sharrkan and Pisti (whom were also starting to raise their hands) in front of him. "Me!"

"It looks like we have an eager volunteer here! Come up!"

Did the performer's eyes just widen at the sight of Sinbad making his way down the audience? Did his hands that held the blades shook slightly as the distance closed between the two men?

Sinbad made his way to the bottom of the stage and looked up the stairs at the Assassin. He could make out the light freckles dotting the cheeks on such a close proximity. In quick steps, he ascended the stage and allowed one hand to gently brush the bangs away from the eyes while the other removed the bandage around the performer's mouth regardless of the confused mutters from the audience.

"Heh, it seems that I have found you at last, my little liar. Now who is the one that will follow the other till the end?"

A tender smile broke across the Assassin's face.

"You are still as stubborn as ever, my king."

A/N: Another super quick one-shot fic featuring my fave pairing. I wanted to try writing in a different style/format of story. Hopefully it is not too confusing ^^;

Reviews, suggestions etc appreciated!