Prologue: His Final Amendment

They moved together, locked as one, in a mesmerizing dance of destruction and despair. Above and below them, Tokyo Tower was buckling where they had carved out devastating reminders of their presence from its massive frame – evidence of their desperate internal struggle against one another... or was it, perhaps, FOR one another?

No one seemed to have that answer.

Either way, they could not stop. This was their destiny; they were both already falling – hurtling helplessly towards its ultimate fulfillment – and there was no fighting it. There was no way either of them could stop it now even if they tried. It was out of their hands.

Somehow, it didn’t matter. There would be no turning back and there was no room for regrets. There was only this final intimate act between them – a merging of identity, a union of soul, a breaking of bonds – and that alone held any significance.

Finally submitting to the inevitable, Shirou Kamui raised his shinken high above his head and dove toward his Other with an inarticulate cry that was half furious, half despairing – relying on the sheer momentum of the situation to carry him through to its conclusion. But time seemed to slow almost to a halt, and without that numbing speed to guide him, Kamui was able to see everything with a heartbreaking, crystal-clarity. And much to his dismay, his counterpart simply stood there with an expectant look, watching as the blade rushed toward him in a silver arc, not bothering to move.

The world faded to a single pinpoint... and for an instant, all that remained was that smile.

In these Dreams, the world is drenched in blood and shadows. Dark and warm and wet as one might please, it is rather tempting to curl up here and hide away in a cocoon of silence and something that is not quite life and not quite death. Even in its morbid strangeness, it is soothing and sheltered... perhaps a feeling most closely matched by the intimacy of a mother’s womb. And it is welcomed.

It is in these Dreams that they usually come together, touching upon each other with an understanding that can never be attained in reality... and only to be forgotten upon waking.

Amidst the darkness and this shallow lake of crimson velvet, two young men are entwined in a passionate embrace – clinging to each other with an unconscious desperation that might suggest that one could not exist without the other.

And perhaps, they really cannot. No one knows this for certain. But this world is theirs and theirs alone, for they are the ones who created it with their passion for one another; and this is the closest, surest truth.

They are mirror images of each other, set in a cradle of long, supple limbs; gracefully arced bone; and smooth, blood-streaked flesh. Luminous, liquid-violet eyes shine from identical, finely-boned faces so delicate they are almost feminine – their expressions shy and sorrowful and seductive all in the same breath – and framed with an endearing fringe of tousled hair the color of a raven’s wing. But that is where the similarity ends, for although they are near-perfect replicas of one another physically, they could not be any further apart in temperament of spirit.

In that respect, maybe it is best to call them inverted reflections of each other – two opposing halves of one whole.

The one who bears the shadow wings of an angel smiles; it is a mild, knowing look, but it is also dark and cruel and can chill the hardest of hearts. The one held carefully in the bend of his arm possesses wings like that of a bat, enormous and leathery and black, but he almost never smiles... and he is always crying. Even now, he is weeping quietly in his other’s embrace.

Neither seems to notice.

“The end is at hand,” the boy with the smile says softly to his companion, stroking his rumpled hair almost affectionately. “Are you afraid?”

“...No,” the other whispers, burying himself further into his arms – pressing against that unfeeling warmth. “I still... I still have hope.”

“There is only one future,” it is the tone of someone pointing out the painfully obvious without trying to be insulting.

“Perhaps,” comes the reluctant agreement. “But even so... my destiny... is what I make of it.”

Indigo eyes widened in disbelief as the once-majestic sword in his hands screamed beneath the force of the oncoming blow, abruptly shattering into a hundred hopeless shards and littering the ground miserably. Kamui barely had the time to register all of this properly when the equally shocking, white-hot pain of penetration invaded his senses, pulsing and sharp. He had let down his guard – albeit, just for an instant – and the other Kamui had immediately taken advantage of the opening it presented.

For several weightless seconds, he simply stared down brokenly at where the Dark Kamui’s shinken was driven nearly to the hilt into his shoulder – barely missing his heart – unable to process its meaning or how it happened. And for one deadly moment, it seemed as though the connection to his brain had been severed and he scarcely remembered how to breathe. Thankfully, however, his strong sense of self-preservation wouldn’t allow him to slip into total shock just yet.

“N... no...” Distantly, he felt the ruined sword slide from his nerveless fingers, clattering to the ground with a grating, hollow ring. “It... can’t be.”

His mind cried out against the wrongness of this – confused, aggrieved, and very much afraid of what would now happen. He couldn’t stop the tears from coming.

The one who smiles runs a possessive hand over the other, “You can’t escape your destiny... or mine.”

“I know I can’t. But I can’t just accept it, either,” the latter gives into the roaming caress without hesitation, despite himself, “I have to at least try. For my wish...”

“Your wish... will destroy you.”

The remorseless laugh that follows is a harsh contradiction to the tender touches and the startled moans of pleasure they evoke. It is a sort of heartlessness that should, by all means, hinder their unfolding, erotic play. Still, neither of them seems to care.

But one of them is still crying.

Smiling maliciously, ‘Kamui’ took a moment to rest the fingers of his free hand against the base of his sword’s blade, feeling the faint, stuttering pulse of his counterpart’s life force through the metal. The sensation afforded him a rather distinct surge of satisfaction. It would soon be over and he would have his desire granted.

The thought pleased him.

“Kamui, as long as you are not truly awakened as the Dragon of Heaven, when you fight against me, it is your destiny to die...” a cruel smirk passed over the Dragon’s face as he continued to use his weapon to suspend the other painfully just inches above the deck.

A large part of him was enjoying the convulsions and choked whimpers of denial, but another, tiny part of him was screaming for it to stop. It was the one, remote piece of him that was weak and hesitant – pleading in the voice of a boy who, by now, should no longer exist. He ignored it. It always went away if he ignored it long enough.

“When you use the sword to strike against the one you want to protect, you can’t use the sword at its true strength. When you try to defeat me, you have already chosen your own defeat.”

The smile was empty, but he continued to wear it. After all... there was no other way.

The one who cries looks up at his counterpart carefully - his breathing catching unevenly around his words as the contact between them begins to take on a heightened, familiar heat, “I will do what it takes to realize my wish.”

“Of course,” his companion drawls in response, completely at ease, “I would expect no less of you, my love.”

There is a lingering silence before one can just manage to hear the hesitant whisper, “...And you?”

A soft smile brushes itself against that smooth, damp forehead slowly before trailing butterfly kisses over closed eyelids – nuzzling gently and sensuously as he moves to ghost his breath over the other’s lips, his words a distant sigh, “The Dragon of Earth was destined to arrive at a single, absolute conclusion... that you would die.”

The Dark Kamui gazed down at his other half intently, dimly fascinated by the beauty of those stricken violet eyes, even as they stared up at him emptily – devoid of the knowledge that could save them both from this tragic fate. He knew all too well that it was Kamui’s wish that prevented the younger teen from remembering that one vital fact that bound him to ‘Kamui’ – knew that without that acceptance, the only thing that could satisfy the ultimate will of the Kamui was the spilling of this boy’s blood.

Between the two of them, his former friend had been given the opportunity to decide his own fate. But of two very different possible paths to take, Kamui had chosen to walk the path that would lead to his own destruction – all for the sake of a Wish that could never be realized so long as Kamui represented the Kamui.

But because it was not his place to interfere with that decision, technically only being a mirror, he could do nothing against that except answer his own calling. And despite all of his best intentions, his need for possession still burned hot in his veins – the ever-present ache to reclaim that which had been lost to both himself and the Kamui.

And no matter how hard Kamui fought against it, it was a need that HAD to be satisfied... one way or another.

“Kamui, you were never meant to win against me. That is the one true future.”

The Dragon of Heaven frowns slightly, apparently not satisfied with the response given to him, “What does destiny have to do with what you desire for yourself? Do you mean to say that there is nothing that you strive for simply because you WANT it?”

His skepticism, surprisingly, is met with an amused smile and soft fingertips pressing gently against his brow, as though to smooth away the troubled crease there. They linger for a moment before tracing their way around his eye and down the curve of one flushed cheek, moving until they grasp and tilt his chin so that his lover can search his face with an expression of frank curiosity, “You really don’t understand, do you? You don’t remember...” his voice trails off, sounding vaguely disappointed, “The attachments you’ve allowed yourself are obviously clouding your sensibilities.”

For a very brief moment, the boy’s smile fades into something that looks mildly concerned – or perhaps even upset – but it is gone as quickly as it comes, like a wisp of smoke escaping into the wind,

“Don’t misunderstand me, love,” he is smiling again, but his eyes are grave, “your death IS my greatest desire.”

Where these words strike, there is no fear or feeling of betrayal – only an aching sadness, “Why would you wish for such a thing?”

The Angel does not answer right away, but he does not seem too concerned about this – despite the urgency this situation should inspire, his love has never denied him anything that he required; so he waits patiently.

The Earth Guardian shifts and stretches his wings upward – achingly – purring softly in surprise and pleasure as knowing hands slip up to trail along their edges, kneading tenderly. And they stay this way for a minute – loving one another in their own strange way - gazing into each other with a searing intensity – searching... searching...

The moment falls.

Breaking their gaze, the Angel settles himself back against his Seal, curling his snowy white pinions around their bodies in a gesture both sheltering and possessive. The one beneath him answers this by extending his own wings and carefully curving them in a loose embrace around his counterpart’s body. Such has always been the way of things with them – unconditional acceptance and love that somehow always overshadows their fated opposition – soothing motions as an anodyne balm for the obligatory, hurtful words.

Another cautious flutter and their dance of desire continues – gentle for all its intensity as it shifts focus from seduction to possession. It is a ritual as old and true as time itself, as well as one that bespeaks the most ancient laws of nature. By now, it is not something that either can imagine living without; it is as natural and necessary in their lives as breathing. So they feed this instinct readily, straining to set this world and its energies in balance as they fulfill their roles as Guardians to the Powers.

Flushed and breathless, the Seal surrenders himself to this binding act, crying out helplessly as he is laid claim to thoroughly with lips and teeth and tongue, but making no attempt to escape the hot mouth branding him so intimately. His cheeks are still damp and his heart still aches, but until his lover can find the words to ease his doubts – be it for better or worse – he must will these things from his mind. But as always, it is difficult.

Thankfully though, before he becomes too uncomfortable, his partner finally takes pity on him and answers his question.

“I wish to be the one who takes you, because... in the end, Fate requires that there can only be one Kamui,” he whispers between kisses along that lovely, bared throat, “And you... have always belonged to me.”

This is really only part of what he means to say. But he does not finish this thought – leaving it as a mere half-truth – for it is worse than useless to reveal his true intentions to his lover. In fact, it was probably better to be cruel about this...

Because upon waking, he knew that even he would forget his own reasons – forget his own heart as he became someone else – and he did not want his mate to die, believing him a liar.

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For those who read this fic the first time around, you'll notice that the new draft in progress looks NOTHING like the original story. This is because MD finally collected XTV for herself and has been able to pull up the direct quotes from the last episode to do this. However, I'd like to note that I am only using XTV for the end episode because it suits my purposes - this rest of this fic will be calling up references to the X and TB manga.

Also, this chapter is probably going to be updated by the paragraph every couple of days, seeing as MD has ppl to appease and having this record some of my progress is probably a good thing. At least that way, my readers will KNOW I'm still alive... even if I am a VERY slow writer. x_x;;;

...but MD is willing to blame some of that on both the complexity of the plot (which she really is too stupid to be writing about - little brains that she HAS) as well as the numerous RPGs she's allowed herself to get into. Yeah, blame it on the RPGs. ;p