Disclaimer: If anyone knows about the red-headed bishie being up for sale on Ebay contact me right away, but until then... I don't own him, or any other character created by Watsuki-sensei.
He walks into the bar with the grace of death and the aura of a fighter. Not a soldier, but someone willing to give their body and soul to protect everything and anyone they consider their own.
He is far from nondescript. A curtain of fire and cold stones of amethyst make up his features at a glance. However, that's all I can see as he deftly maneuvers his way into a shadowed booth where he can see who enters but they won't notice him. The persistent beat of music and murmur of indistinct voices drown out all but the loudest sounds, but something tells me even if all of that was silenced out still not even a whisper of fabric would escape from his general area.
Damn. He has the air of a man not looking for trouble, but knows he doesn't have a choice in the matter. Why did he have to go and enter my fucking bar tonight? Don't take that literally. I run a respectable place. Well, maybe "respectable" isn't really the right word, but the regulars know I won't stand for any of that here. There are enough places around town where those kinds of services are easily available. I might not look too formidable to those unfamiliar to this town, but word gets around quickly to those inside that I'm more than willing and able to kick serious ass if my "requests" are ignored.
This man puts me on-edge though, because I am positive I wouldn't be able to even fleetingly slow him down if he decided to change his mind about not actively searching trouble out. Or if trouble caught up to him here of all places.
Even though I own the building, at night I like to keep an eye on things from the last stool at the bar. I had a perfect view of the whole room and if a problem presented itself, I could nip it in the bud with as little fuss as possible. Despite the view, I'd put a charm on the door to alert me every time someone entered. It was complex enough to know the difference between someone coming and going, even if they tried to trick it by slipping in as the door closed. You could never be too careful. Like now, as a normal enough looking man entered. I'd been so deep in thought about Mr. Flamey-Hair that I might have missed him. Yet, I doubt I would have because no matter how average his brown hair and eye combo was, something about him felt... wrong. He was too far away and there were too many people between us though, I couldn't even tell if he was a demon let alone the type. Still, it was likely he was one. No matter how ignorant some of them are, almost all humans instinctively avoid this place. If they do come, it's because they know non-humans are here. Sometimes that didn't affect me in the least and some times that was very, very bad.
In the split second that it took me to activate my connection to the walls and decipher his species, something I commonly did in a second-natured sort of way, my eyes skittered back to the man from my previous thoughts and I instantly knew from the tips of my toes to the ends of my hair to the very depth of my soul that I was in over my head.
The man in the booth's eyes were nothing but hard glints of gold.
Dammit Kamiya, what have you gotten yourself into this time?
Okay. So... I don't know what to say.
This would be pretty much the first thing I've ever posted here. Well, a few years ago I had two other stories on here, but I've improved so vastly I thought it prudent to my pride to delete them. (I have copies buried in my hard-drive just so I can go back and remind myself how bad I used to write. It helps me not get disgusted with what I write now.)
I rated this M because of certain people's language. (Yes, this chapter is Kaoru's point of view in case that didn't come across as clearly as I meant it to at the end. She's having a bad night. She won't cuss this much throughout the whole thing.) I wasn't really sure what it's rated according to their system, but I gave it an M, just in case. There will probably be lime later anyways.
Alright, so whoever's out there reading this: I'd really, really, really, really (...10 minutes later...) really, really appreciate it if you'd drop me a review! Not because I love the attention so much as that I really want to improve my writing! Any bit of advice or critique would be much obliged! But please don't flame me. Just tell me what you don't like.