His pulse thrums beneath his skin, endlessly racing. He can barely breathe.

Everything is in ruins. He's so very, very late.

Flame moves to devour all in its wake. There is little left untouched by its merciless heat, swallowing objects living and inanimate. Ren's eye stings thanks to the smoke in the air and the intense warmth, and the sound of his footsteps are absorbed in the crackle of fire.

Bodies. So many bodies. Those he recognizes, faces he used to see on a daily basis, that had once smiled and been angry, sad, triumphant- all now trapped in unmoving fear of death. Bodies of people he's never seen also join his dead comrades, and he wonders if their deaths were really worth the pain they went through. Dead, amidst the burning and sparking bodies of ruined mechanical warriors.

So many dead because of war. The price they pay for their battles grows every time, but he can feel something in the air; the sizzling electricity of adrenaline. His senses are overwhelmed with the essence of the battleground, the metallic scent of blood and acrid smoke, the echoes of gunshots and clanging weapons, the reddened glow of the moon that casts the unholy scene in an incandescent light.

Two different sides, fighting- but why? Why do they desperately desire to win? Is it really that important? Has it ever been?

His sword is drawn, gripped at his side with inhuman strength. Every muscle is tensed in his body, every nerve hyperaware. His mind feels a bit frazzled. Threading through him, a dark feeling of unease finds purchase, tightening his chest.

Tonight, it ends.

Tonight, he'll cut away the heart of the rival side of the war, Tsubaki. He'll bring her to her knees. He'll break apart the cycle of hide and seek they've repeated for years.

Maybe, just maybe, he'll also get the answers he's been searching for.

His teeth grind together as he presses through the hazy surroundings. His discomfort continues to grow, a black knot tying itself within the pit of his stomach. His eye flashes in every direction, prepared to fend off anything that comes his direction.

He's waiting for the moment she appears. Like a ghost trailing through the shadows whenever she wills it, to swipe away his sanity when he least expects her to strike. She has always wanted to ruin him; to break his mind, leave his body full of gory holes to fulfill her desires. Her sickest fantasies she's spoken of still resonate in his mind, the things she's said to him when they would be face to face in the throes of battle.

There is only one way that this can go. I will never lose to her. His thoughts are defiant, laced in years of hatred he's held for her.

This game we've played for so long, this cycle we've created- I'll bring the end of it. Finally… it'll be over.

Sharp gunshots nearby make him reach for the handle of his sword, the rough material of the hilt gripped tightly in his gloved hand. The shots aren't in rapid succession like those of machinery, like the ones he's heard before out on the battlefield when the warring robots would attack. They're the precise, perfectly thought out shots of a human being with impeccable aim despite the handicap of one eye.

She's nearby. I know it.

He searches for her, stepping forward once, twice, scanning the bloodstained ground for her form. Around him burn years worth of technology, the brittle and blackened bodies of both human and android fighters surrounding him. Flames taint the sky scarlet within the onyx, foreboding and dark.

Show yourself, damn you.

"I knew it wouldn't be long before you came."

As if to answer the inner call of his thoughts, he hears her. The lilting, beckoning voice that, if they weren't enemies, he would dare to call beautiful. A bit breathless, but still full of that seductive sadism. Impatient, even- like she'd been left awaiting his arrival.

He turns around then, his body wound tightly with tension, his sword sliding fluidly out of its sheath with the action as he faces her. A gust of choking wind flies past him, whipping his hair around his face and making the fire around them burn brighter, higher, allowing it to encompass anything it desires. It colors her in flickering light, making her seem ephemeral, unreal.

(If only all of this was some twisted dream. If only he could wake up.)

Her blonde bun is disheveled from fighting, that red camellia still adorning her hair, drawing his eye. He has to wonder if she's tried to tear it out before, stared at it and wanted to ruin it like he currently wishes to.

She's coated in blood.

He can't tell if it's hers, or others. Her favorite red dress is splattered in fresh crimson, the color spilling over the snowy whiteness of her scarred skin and the once-white fabric of her stockings. Those very scars seem even more noticeable, reminders of the battles she'd participated in with him. Many of them are from himself, matching the ones she's left permanently etched over his body with pride; but most are not his, undeniably inflicted by Hatsune.

He's sure, at one point, her soul was crushed. Whoever she was, whatever humanity was left inside her, is gone. Destroyed, beaten down into dust and then reformed, molded into what Hatsune wanted. Into what Tsubaki is now- a ruthless, unstoppable killer without the ability to feel pain.

When was it that she let go of herself? What was it like for her to watch herself turn into this monster? Has she ever felt true regret for the unforgivable things she's done?

Who was Tsubaki, once upon a time?

It doesn't matter. None of that matters, not now, not anymore. All of those questions he's wondered all this time, they no longer need answered. All he needs to do is kill her. All he has to do is drive his sword through her heart, and watch her finally submit to him. To see that crimson eye finally become dim, and finish what they started.

A sudden shiver races through him, and he finds himself staring across the distance to her, meeting that very eye. Bloodred, deep and unreadable, an expression of amusement written across her face.

She's too pleased to see him.

"I expected that you'd show," she continues, unaware of his inner monologue, her shell-shaped mouth easily speaking around the sly half smile she wears. Her gun is tightly fit into that slender hand of hers, tapping along the trigger almost playfully as she bounces it against her hip. "You never disappoint me, Ren. Always ready to play when I'm bored. You're so much more fun to toy with than your friends."

His mind's eye flashes with the image of that camellia sitting atop Lily's casket. His chest constricts painfully, his teeth grinding together as he fights to maintain control.

"You'll die tonight, Tsubaki," he says coldly. "I'll make sure that Lily's death wasn't for nothing."

"Oh? Is that so? I've been waiting for you to say that for a long time. Will you really manage to hurt me this time, or are we going to keep hunting one another down forever? How many more friends of yours will you let me kill?"

It's hard enough to keep control over his emotions when she's so close and infuriating, but it's like her sharp comments have amplified, ringing in his ears.

Brandishing his sword, his palm hot against the cool black hilt, he glares at her. All she responds with is that slick, cutting wide smile.

"...I have no desire to keep playing along with you, Tsubaki." His words are barely heard against the crackling fire around them.

Her resounding cackle makes him stiffen, and he watches her flippantly toss her bangs aside with one hand, giving him a good glimpse of the stained bandage underneath.

"If you could have stopped, this fight would've been over long ago, wouldn't it?" she remarks, her shadow melding to the powerful flames illuminating her figure. "But you don't want it to stop, do you? You enjoy it just like I do. Admit it, Ren— you're just like me."

"Shut up!"

Lunging forward with a war cry he's never unleashed before, Ren rushes toward the blonde with nothing but darkness swirling in his heart. Slashing down at her, she sidesteps him at the last second, and he feels his blade meet the slick metal of her gun for an instant. Then she's behind him, hopping backward and putting distance between them.

A warning shot rings out, and he sees the split-second glimmer of a bullet race past his face. Whirling to face her, the smoking gun is eye level.

"You're afraid to say it, to see it like I do, but your precious hero act can only fool so many people," she murmurs, and there's some underlying tone beneath her words. "You can't fool me, Ren. You never have."

"Stop talking like you know anything about me," he spits angrily, a gust of wind blowing past him and sending wisps of his hair into his vision. "For years, Tsubaki, we've done this song and dance of yours. If anyone is afraid of admitting anything, it would be you. Whenever we get close to finishing this vicious cycle, you run away or leave me hanging by a thread. You could have killed me many times, but you haven't. Yet, you kill everyone around me like you're doing me a favor."

"I am doing you a favor," she responds sickly sweet, tapping the end of her gun against her bandaged eye. "I'm making sure no one else can see through the lies you tell yourself except me."

A blinding, vicious red haze covers his vision, and he flies toward her swinging. This time she doesn't back away, swirling around him with an envious grace. Another gunshot, and he feels it sear through his sleeve, yet he doesn't stop to check the injury.

All he wants is the end. He could be inches from death, and as long as she had already met it, he wouldn't care.

They dance circles around each other, and the alternating sounds of gunfire and clashing metal is the music that follows. His desire to see her fall is unmatched by any other feeling, and exertion and pain take backburner to the overwhelming emotion.

They are too evenly matched combat-wise, however, and they find themselves at a standstill. His sword is pressed to the tender skin of her throat, and her gun is nearly touching his lips, so close he can smell the acrid scent of gunpowder.

He goes to sideswipe her gun away, but she pushes forward and uses it as a brace, meeting him in the middle and pressing the thick metal weapon against his own. Their faces are now inches away from the other, and he stares directly into her vermilion eye, into the depths of the dark red iris that seems just as piercing.

Their breath mingles in that moment, and he's never been quite this close to her scarred face before. Their power struggle is a perfect checkmate, neither able to get the upper hand on the other, and he hates it so much. His violent glare is only met by her saccharine smile, like she's enjoying every second of it, and his body cries for bloodshed.

Until—

His vision goes deep white all of a sudden, a still image crossing his memory for just a second that leaves him shocked to his core.

Two blond children no older than seven laughing together in a field of flowers. One boy, one girl. Their hands are entwined between them, a pinky promise made under the loving embrace of the summer sun. Their foreheads nearly touch, and an unearthed feeling of affection and love rises in his chest.

It's followed by a slideshow of violence, the sunshine being blocked out by bitter clouds and creepy carved smiles in the dark. He remembers being beaten absolutely senseless, the cries of the girl as the boy was taken away, her agony as they brutalized her and took away her eye.

He remembers reaching out for her, wishing he could save her, but his limp form being too weak to do anything but watch her broken figure be left on the streets.

A name, a sweet name that turned into acid on his lips, left forgotten with her— Rin.

He remembers gripping tight to a little plastic ring— no, not his ring, hers, a ring he gave to her— and the pain of the memories is punishingly bright, causing a gasp to rip from his throat.

As soon as it comes back to him, he is thrust again into the present, the flames around them threatening to swallow them whole into their sparkling despair. The memories don't fade away this time, the years of nightmares and delusions he thought he had made up finally coming to a terrifyingly realistic place in his mind.

Rin— that name. That girl from the past, that girl I was friends with as a child.

We were orphans back then, but we had promised to protect each other. I finally remember.

But that girl… She became…

He can taste blood by how hard he's biting into his tongue, his eyes turned as wide as possible.

...Tsubaki?

"...Aaaagh!?"

A bloodwrenching scream snaps him back, and he is left staring straight into the confused eye of the woman in front of him. Their weapons have ceased the struggle for just an instant, and for the first time in his life, he sees a flash of terror across her face.

The fearless, bitter, destructive Tsubaki, looking as if she's seen a phantom in him.

She suddenly jolts back, hopping back lithely in her geta, and a hand dives deep into her blonde hair. Pain creases her brow, and she glares at him accusingly, conflicting emotions flooding across her expression so fast he can't quite understand what he's seeing. He's never seen her so riled.

As for him, his chest is tight and every breath is stressful and shallow. His hand is so tight against the handle of his blade that he can't loosen it at all without feeling the pain of blood rushing back.

No…

No!

This can't be. This emotionless, cruel killer can't be her. She can't be Rin.

Rin died years ago, didn't she? Left a crumpled heap on the ground, she had to have died there. She never could have become the person in front of him. The Rin of the past was kind and sweet, not some kind of self-destructive killer.

"...You," she whispers, drawing his gaze to her. She's laughing under her breath, a psychotic, lost sound of dissonance. "It's you. It's been you… all along? Or is this some kind of trick?"

Her lips part again, and he wants to snap her shut and rip her apart in an instant before he utters his name, but he doesn't get the chance.

"...Len."

That name is like a sharp knife through his abdomen, and its like his soul has been uncaged. Nothing makes sense, and instead he can only feel a sense of disbelief.

None of it is true. It absolutely can't be!

This is all a trick!

Before even he knows he's moving, Ren jumps forward with force and purpose, and he knocks her gun out of her hand with one fell motion. She tries to step back, but this time he's not letting her go.

Elbowing her in the collar and causing her to choke, Ren forces her to the ground, straddling her in an instant before she can get away or make a dash for her weapon. Her thin body is pinned under him immobile, her arms splayed out on either side of her, and she glares at him with violent pleasure, even with his blade pressed lengthwise against her throat.

Coughing, her burning iris meets his.

"You're tired of this, right?" she asks him. "You've said you want this to end, don't you?"

"Shut up!" he barks, his thoughts a mess. "Stop talking, or I'll kill you this instant, Tsubaki."

"You saw it, didn't you?"

He freezes, unable to respond. She continues a little more quietly, but with an indecipherable smirk.

"Those memories… Are they fake, Ren? Who are you? Who am I? I don't understand it, but it doesn't matter, does it? You still want to kill me, don't you?"

She quiets as he presses the blade closer to her throat, eliciting a small droplet of blood.

"I said shut up," he hisses. "You don't get to talk. You don't get to question me after everything you've done. You don't know me, you have never known me. You have ruined my life, killed the people I love, the people who cared about me."

Something flashes in her eye, and finally the smile vanishes. This time there's nothing but brutal honesty and something else written on her bruises features, sharp shadows playing across her face thanks to the fire around them.

"...Not all of them."

His brows furrow, not comprehending. "What?"

"I said, not all of them. There was one I didn't kill."

Her reply only sends him more confusion, and he lets out a low growl.

"Stop toying with me, Tsubaki. You have killed everyone that ever cared about me."

A quiet, for an instant, and then—

"...If I had killed everyone, I would be dead too."

His heart seems to pause, and his eyes narrow. Tsubaki stares up at him unflinchingly.

"...This is a nasty joke when you're seconds from death," he grimaces. "You'd think you'd have something smarter to say than to try and pull at heartstrings that don't exist."

"I'm not lying, but it doesn't really matter either, does it?" Tsubaki's smile has returned, and he watches her bangs blow in the wind, revealing the ugly gash across the bridge of her nose.

"I do care about you, Ren. You could even say I loved you, but maybe I'm just infatuated with the fact that no matter how I tried, you just wouldn't die. And yet you'd never kill me either. Why is that, Ren?" Now she's accusing him, pressing the issue. "Why haven't you ever had the guts to finish me?"

"I told you, you don't get to-" he starts again, but she interrupts.

"Then do it!" she demands, reaching up to grab the sharp end of his blade. He watches blood begin to pour out of her palm, yet she doesn't release her hold. "You want to kill me? Do it, then. Your chance is right here, right now. Finish me off, Ren. Kill me and end it."

His chest and mind are a swirling vortex of emotions and words he can't say, feelings he can't even begin to find a way to describe. Her words are enticing and hypnotizing, singing to a desire he's always had and yet now feels like he shouldn't.

He can't believe he's hesitating. He can't believe he's even thinking it over.

No, damn it, no!

Yanking his sword from her hand, he positions it above her head with the blade aimed down toward her face. He can see himself doing it— he can envision plunging it through her skull and putting this all to rest. He could finally get through his life. He could finally live.

His hands are trembling.

"Do it! Kill me already!" she demands, getting louder, and his hands burn against the hilt.

In a flash, he finally slams his blade down toward her face. She reflexively turns her head, her eyes snapping shut, bracing for impact.

But it doesn't cut through bone.

Instead, he slices through the beautiful, bright red camellia hairpin that adorns her bun. The metal device cracks and shatters under his sword, breaking into several small pieces and shedding the faux petals like blood. His chest heaves, and he can't take his eyes off it, watching as it crackles with electricity before dying out.

As he ponders his choice, he notices the girl beneath him is struggling again, but this time something is different. Her right arm is futilely trying to reach for something.

"...Len," she whispers, and her voice has changed. His heartbeat stills.

When he sees her face this time, the crimson iris he's grown to hate has brightened considerably, yet holds a deep and profound sadness.

"Len… the ring. The ring you gave me," she murmurs, her chest heaving. "I…"

He follows her gaze, and realizes that the little green ring was flung a few feet out of her reach. The marred surface gleams in the light of the flames around them, yet still reminds him of a simpler time when they weren't like this.

His throat stings from the smoke, but he's lost when he gazes upon Tsubaki.

She turns her head to look up at him, and he's stunned to find that there are tears in her eye. Her blonde hair is loosened from the bun, letting out long curls amongst the destruction of the hairpin.

"...You still didn't kill me," she laughs, but there's a shakiness to her now. "Instead, you made it worse. You made me feel again."

He can't speak, taken aback.

"I can feel everything now," Tsubaki whispers. "I can… remember everything. Our childhood together, the ring, but more than that. Len, I… I remember my own death."

He becomes stifled, hard to breath, as a different kind of repressed memory threatens to surface.

"This cycle… I've done such horrible things in this life, Len," Tsubaki cries. "I've killed so many people. There is nothing for me here now."

"Stop," he manages. "Stop it, Tsubaki, you-"

"Rin."

He freezes at the word, until she repeats it.

"My name is Rin, isn't it? You're Len. And I…"

A crystalline tear streams down her cheek.

"...I loved you. I still do."

Just like that, the memory he doesn't want comes back. A powerful, jarring recollection of multiple deaths. A love potion he had given her, multiple gruesome deaths he had tried to prevent before. Lives past lived that he shouldn't be able to remember.

She's right, isn't she? He can't deny it anymore. His body feels so heavy, and tears threaten under his eyelids.

"...Rin," he finally breathes, and she sobs a strangled laugh.

"It's strange to hear you say it," she says, before shaking her head. "But… I don't deserve that name anymore. We have to finish this."

"What do you mean?" he asks, avoiding his own reflection in the shine of his sword. "What are we supposed to do?"

Her small body heaves, and she seems so tiny now underneath him.

"...I have to die, Len."

His hands grow taut again on the handle of his sword. "No."

"I have to. Listen to me," she shudders. "I have murdered. I have done awful, terrible things. If you let me go, Hatsune will replace my hairpin or kill me herself. I have come too far to go back, and I have nothing left. We have to end this cycle here, don't we?"

"...You're asking me to kill you, then?" he says flatly, trying not to sound pained.

"You were going to before. You should have. There's no other way, Len. We… This life isn't for us, and never has been."

The awful, distressing images of the lives they had once lived drive her point home, but he feels the horrific dread building back up inside him.

She's unfortunately correct. His side of the battlefield will hunt her down forever. They can't coexist in a world where they will be enemies forever, with what they know now. Not even his regret at Lily's death can be ignored— Rin can't be redeemed here. Her existence, and his, can't continue.

There really is no choice, is there?

Her cold fingers against his cheek nearly throw him off, and he watches more tears continue to fall down her dirtied face.

"It'll be okay, right?" she says. "If I die, maybe… maybe the next time, we'll be happy."

A lump grows in his throat, and his teeth grind together. With mechanical movements, he pulls his sword from her hair and positions it over her chest. She doesn't flinch or try to get away— instead, she just smiles.

"...Thank you, Len." Rin closes her eyes. "Thank you."

Time freezes as he draws the blade above her, his grasp shakier than it ever had been, and tears of his own begin to crest down his face.

God, he hates this world and everyone in it.

A deep, black despair burrows into his soul, and with a vicious cry, he brings his weapon down into her chest.

She gasps as he pierces through her ribcage, but it is short-lived. Her crimson eye, littered with glittering tears, lets one final tear roll down her porcelain skin, and then her hand drops from his face. He catches it in his left, gripping the limp limb with crushing fingers.

Small cries begin to burst from his throat. The bloodstain growing around the wound he inflicted sears itself into his memory and he presses her pale fingers against his lips, hunching over her body like a small child.

Why? Why her? Why them?

Why have they been part of this vicious cycle for so long? He had hated her so long only to realize that he loved her once upon a time, even now? Why is this cursed soul of his forced to watch her die, and even be the cause of it?

Why is he only allowed to know her when they can't be together? Even still, his anger at Tsubaki is unsated. He still lost people he loved because of her, and it's a crushing sense of relief and heartbreak knowing she's passed.

Maybe it will be over now.

As he sobs over her, he doesn't hear the quiet footsteps cresting behind him amongst the crackling, relentless flames. He doesn't see the shadow of a gun lifting up to press against the back of his head.

And, a moment later, he doesn't see or feel anything at all.

.x.X.x.

"You did as I asked?"

"Yes."

"Good."

The silveret is leaning over a desk, toying with something, and the female bows her head softly.

"Is there anything you need me to do now?"

"Yes. Yuki… how does this look to you?"

He turns to her, and in his gloved hands is a pristine piece of paper folded into an elegant paper plane. The girl examines it with a curious eye.

"...It's perfect, sir."

He stares it down, peering over its edges and seeming bored. When he glances back up to her, noting the gun left dangling in her hand, he just smiles.

"You've done enough for now. The cycle will begin again… and this time, we'll try something new."

With a quick flick of the wrist, the paper plane is sent flying through the air, with two pairs of eyes following it. It curls and loops beautifully, but after a few moments, it drops low and then crumples against the floor, joining a pile of many others.

"...Master?" The girl speaks up again, and he looks to her.

"Why do you do this?"

He tilts his head. "Whatever do you mean?"

"These scenarios… why do you drag out their suffering like this? I don't understand."

His ruby red eyes grow hard as stone, and he crosses the room to grip her chin in his hand. She doesn't dare fight him, as his silvery hair falls into his darkened face.

"Because, Yuki," he murmurs.

"Their suffering will never, ever, be able to match what I have felt."


A/N: It's been 4 years.

I know that's a long time. And tbh, I wouldn't expect future updates anytime soon. I'm currently sick and the rest of this chapter rushes to me in a flood. I really did miss writing for this. As you can tell, I haven't dropped it— but I am the worst at updating my multichaptered stories. Still, if you managed to make it this far or have come back to this update, I'm incredibly grateful to you for sticking around after so long. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

I hope you're all taking care.