I knew something was not right. That was why I was here. A second Seikishidan? The revival of Justice? And now.. this .. tournament. (Brought to us by the United Nations.)

The child talking to me is so young. Her eyes are bright and innocent, sparkling as she chatters about finding someone named ‘Johnny’... But I have seen her fight--toting an enormous anchor as her crew cheers her on. Her small body coming to life with fury and determination to win the prize--her greatest wish granted. To find her ‘Johnny.’

To let children into such a tournament... and not an honorable tournament at that. Blood, death.. I have seen it--and been threatened by it--in previous matches. Warriors of all walks of life (mercs, thieves, assassins, convicts, street fighters...) have gathered here, vying for the grand prize. Being part of the Second Order of Holy Knights... that is only secondary to the main objective.

This is not how the rebirth of the Order should come about. Not like this.

As we talked, there was a prick between my shoulders, a warning itch of being watched. I shrugged, rolling the muscles in an attempt to relax. It felt like two blades jabbing into my back, piercing my vitals. It was hard to pay attention to the girl now, and even harder to keep still.

The little girl was excited--she had just won a particularly difficult round with little injury, bringing her one step closer to her ‘Johnny.’ I cannot help but smile at her--she is so cute and lively, not unlike my sister at that age. What was her name? Ah.. yes, May. I hope she finds her ‘Johnny.’ (I am still looking for mine.)

She ran off then, suddenly, remembering that she was to meet her crew after the match. She waved farewell to me (‘See you later, Mr. Ky!’ she said) and left me alone in the foyer with the blades in my organs. Digging deeper. The itch was driving. I turned.

It is hard to say what one’s reaction would be when hit by a ball in the head. Surprise, yes. Pain, yes. Anger, humiliation, shock... yes, yes, yes. All at once? Quite possible. The next moment for me was quite akin to being beaned by a particularly large ball. Only one word was running through my mind--but it brought with it emotions I never thought possible.

Sol.....
Sol..?
Sol.
Sol...!
SOL!!

He smirked as the final realization of just who was before me crossed my mind, that hateful, unforgettable twist of lips that made the bile rise into my throat. I was choking, the world dropping away before my fury till only he remained. No barriers between us. (My anger is a righteous flame.)

Sol Badguy. Hated rival. Discharged knight. Uncouth barbarian.

...... and my former lover.

No. Hardly lover. ‘Lover’ is such a personal term. He took advantage of me--a child then, sixteen. He fucked me. Yes. Such a crude term, but it describes perfectly what he did to me. I did not know any better--his stronger personality, and my own desire to save his soul--it led me to succumb to his rough charm and skilled seduction. And when I thought we had something--when I thought it was not just lust--he left me. Abandoned me. And took the precious holy sword Fuenken with him.

I detested the bastard with the very fiber of my being.

And here he was before me. Smirking that disgusting smile, watching me with those disgusting eyes. And I could not move.

His lips parted. (‘I’ll be seeing you, boy,’ came the wordless message.) I clenched my fists at the hated nickname. The corners of his mouth lifted. (Those lips were so soft. I can still remember, even after eight years--it has been eight years--just how they felt against my own, crushing and capturing, sucking away breath and life as he consumed me... Sol, Sol, Sol... why did you leave me? What did I do wrong?)

He was moving then, his face locked in a mask of apathy, melting from my sight. And my feet shot into action, the fear of losing him at this moment (I just wanted Fuenken back) overriding any better judgment. I thundered up the stairs, trying to call out (‘Stop!’) but the words refused to pass the lump in my throat. And only when I got to where he had been and finding no trace of him did his name tear out of my larynx, carrying with it all my anger and sorrow. Defeat. Just as before, he was gone.

Collapsing against the guardrail of the balcony, I clutched my chest. What was this pain? My heart, it felt like it had been pierced and torn. Where did this pain come from? I bowed my head, hot tears blinding my eyes. (Tears? Why was I crying?)

I cannot lie.... Eight years have passed, and all the emotions he incited in me had not faded even a millimeter. Eight years didn’t go by without me thinking about him, wondering where he was and if he was even alive... (in truth, I worried about Fuenken) If I could ever find him again--if nothing else, to make him feel the pain I felt.

He used me. A naive child, falling prey to his overbearing personality. I knew better now. I would not fall for his charms again.

But what of this pain in my chest? Why does it hurt...?

There was no doubt in my mind that he had been here--that it was not a trick of my imagination, a ghost of some hated yet desired memory. The cloying scent of his cigarettes still clung to the air, tickling my nostrils. He was here. He was watching me. And he recognized me.

.... he did not change at all. Not in appearance, not in attitude. Still the same Sol Badguy that haunted my dreams and thoughts. Eight years. You would think that would be enough for me to realize that I was deceived.

Hmph. I was young then--I thought I was in love. In love with a fallen creature that I felt I could save and bring back to the glory of God. It would have been such a wonderful thing--introducing this sinner to the paths of righteousness, making great friends with him even as I revealed to him the error of his ways. He would repent and be saved, and thank *me* as his savior. (‘I love you, Ky,’ he would say.)

I was young and given to fantasies.

I am older now, wiser. Puppy love and lust do not interfere with my sight now. He was a monster, cold and ruthless, unable to care or even carry compassion.... (yet why do I hurt so?) I closed my eyes, but the image of him has been burned into my retina. (That apathy I saw previously did not seem so apathetic... the faintest hint of gentleness and regret...?)

‘I’ll be seeing you, boy.’ And my pulse quickened.

I love him. My fingers dug deeply into the thick cloth over my chest, trying to rip out my heart. God, God, God, help me... (‘Amazing grace.. how sweet the sound... that saved a wretch like me..’) I love him, and I hate him, and I don’t know which emotion was stronger.

Damn him. Damn him to eternity and back and to eternity once more. He is my *rival*!! Everything I despise in a person! Why... why then do I...? I realize I can’t rip out my heart and toss it aside.. (shattered mirror)

Below, a crowd of spectators pass through the foyer, into the dark corridors beyond which led to the coliseum. The next battle must be starting soon. I had better go--I want to see the competition, to watch who I must defeat.

Shoving Sol into a corner of my mind, I locked the door firmly and set aside the key. Older and wiser yes, but still just as naive, I suppose. I kept the key because I carry the hope that we will someday have ‘something’.... (‘I love you too, Sol,’ I would say in return.)

I pushed myself off the railing and headed down the stairs, leaving the pieces of my broken heart on that balcony, framed by the scent of cigarettes and spice.

Sol. We will meet again. Whether it will be in love or in hate... (I am yours.)

Either way, may God have mercy on my soul.

Author's Notes: Blah. =P Kat-chan wasn't terribly impressed by it, so I guess it was only a semi-successful attempt at counterpoint. Oh well.

.down: phr33 S0lKy pr0n!!!1111111