A/N: Soooo... It seems I only write for greatly under appreciated fandoms nowadays.

If your a reader from my other active fic, From Here On In, then I AM going to finish it. It turns out I have Executive Functioning Disorder, which is why I've had such trouble finishing fics in the past, but I'm getting help for it, so look foreword to completed stories (Yay!).

Now, for the news about this fic. It's based on the Cathexis music video 20XX Zetsuai. Youtube it : ). I've written most of it, but I'm posting it in small bits. Shamelessly, I'm hoping to get more reveiws this way ; ). With that said, enjoy and REVEIW. It's good for my ego.


Izumi reached out with trembling fingers to brush aside the golden hair of his rapist, to look into that blood red mechanical eye. Fluid, tinted red from the dully-gleaming eye, trickled down the cyborg's face. A parody of human tears.

For a moment, Izumi imagined a crystal blue eye gazing longingly down at him.

Then it was gone and all he could see was the face of his Oppressor. The very reason his people fought. The tyrant who led the cyborgs and ArtiHumans, who persecuted those who practiced the old ways.

Hatred seethed in Izumi's veins. He looked away from that blood red eye, letting his hand fall limply to the cold, rough ground.

"Izumi…" The whisper was low, filled with an almost yearning. An involuntary reaction, Izumi looked up at hearing his name.

The dictator was smiling softly down at him. For a fleeting second, Izumi thought of a disciple worshiping his Deity. He recognized the look. It had been directed towards him once before… Hadn't it?

"How do you know that name?" he managed to feebly choke out. His throat felt constricted. He idly realized they were his first words to the cyborg.

"The same way you know mine, the same reason you ran from me," the dictator said softly, sadly, dropping his head to nuzzle along the length of Izumi's bared neck.

This cryptic response immediately brought the flash Izumi had seen during their fight to his mind. A man of flesh and blood reaching out for him, calling his name desperately. It was a remnant memory of a past life.

"K-koji," Izumi whispered. The cyborg froze, his cold nose pressed to Izumi's nape. Koji drew back slowly, watching the exposed rebel carefully. Izumi made eye contact with the one visible, human eye Koji had beneath his curtain of blond hair.

Something darted across Koji's face and, a decision apparently having been made, he withdrew from where he had been spread out over Izumi's body. Rising to his knees, Koji adjusted his garments automatically, keeping his eyes locked on Izumi the entire time.

Izumi hastened to pull what was left of his uniform to him. There wasn't much to salvage. His muscles tensed in anticipation. He was still in arms length of Koji, but he might be able to make a run for it, if he caught the cyborg unawares…

The opportunity, however, never presented itself. Koji remained leaning over Izumi, his unnatural gaze intent while he dressed.

Finished, Koji surprised the half clothed rebel by scooping him up into impossibly strong arms.

Izumi's reaction was to immediately start struggling. Using the only weapons he had, he dug nails into the remaining soft, human parts of Koji. His shoulder, cheek, the bicep of one arm… Izumi even attempted to gouge out the unwavering blue eye only to be shifted so his arms were restrained as he was crushed against his captor's broad chest.

He ceased struggling. For all his effort, he might as well have been a fly buzzing about the cyborg's head. Instead he settled on glaring, the hate he felt conveyed starkly in his dark eyes.

Koji, who had been looking ahead, froze when he glanced down and caught that intense, unclouded gaze. The tyrant's breath stopped. He seemed to be incapable of speech or movement under the power of Izumi's spiteful glare.

Izumi resumed wriggling furiously in the embrace, hoping to break the hold while Koji was distracted. This had the opposite effect of brining Koji out of his trance. With increased speed, the cyborg headed toward Central, the capitol of his engineered empire, leaping from dilapidated house to house with the ease of stepping over a puddle.