Thank you to my wonderful beta-reader who has stuck with this story for its sixth chapter. And to all the regulars.

Warnings: Spoilers (?) for Kapitel 31 and slight pair bashing (CastorxRazette). Gomenasai ^^

Dedicated to Kayori-chan who helped me discover my new attack: "The Glomp of Death".

Also many many thanks to the anonymous (?) reviewer: Frido. I hope you can log in soon ^^ I used your favourite smells.


Chapter six: Kill your heart and fight


The boy, 2741, was ready for battle. His blades were at his side and he was breathing deeply. In and out. In and out. Once he was in the arena, there would be no time for calming tactics. Fighting and killing was what he was trained to do and was all he wanted to remember. There was a time before, of course, but he didn't want to think back to it, because it hurt. It hurt to remember.

Finally he was called. Like a machine, he rose and stepped into the arena. The sound of cheering coming from the crowd was slightly muffled by the zaiphon proof barrier but it quickened the rate of his heartbeat. He was going to fight someone. He was going to kill someone. And they were happy. They were monsters and they made him feel sick.

It had been a while since he had launched an unprovoked attack on anyone. He'd gone away for a bit and there he had learned that killing was bad. He liked the people there. Respected them, loved them. It was the first time he remembered feeling an attachment to anyone. When they had failed to save his best friend he wasn't angry at them. He was sad but he'd recovered. But it hurt to think. It hurt to remember. His chest hurt even though there was not an injury there.

The pain was forgotten as the other sklave was led through the gate. They stared at each other, the man mountain and the little child, each as unwilling to make the first move. There was a click as the gates closed and the signal was given for the fight to begin.

2741 closed his eyes, not wanting to look at his victim. The man lunged forwards, swinging his sword clumsily. It was a wild movement which the boy was able to avoid easily. He let the man run at him, listening to only his own harsh breathing and the fear coursing through his veins. His arms extended and he flicked his wrist in an almost undetectable way. Blood splattered the ground as the man fell to his knees with a grunt, hand pressed down on the rip in his chest. A second flick ended his life.

Like someone had flicked a switch, all the sound came back. The cheering of the crowd and the announcement, making him a winner.

"The victor is 2741!"

But he didn't want to listen. He didn't want to celebrate. He'd killed someone. The world spun. He felt like he was going to be sick. He curled up on the ground, lying half in the blood, struggling to steady his breathing and block out the sounds of the bloodthirsty audience. Someone pulled him up roughly by the arm and began to drag him out of the arena. He didn't know who it was and he felt too sick to see.

Once he was out of the arena, he began to fight. He was going to be sick. There were shouts of alarm as he twisted his arm free and he began to run. But he wasn't running away, only to the bathroom where he vomited, again and again into the pristine washbasin. There wasn't anywhere he could run to anyway. The blood on his hands was testimony to the murder he'd just committed.

He reached out with bloodstained hands, shaking hands, and turned on the tap to rinse the bile away. Then he filled up the sink and plunged his face into it so that his tears wouldn't leave a mark. He stayed in the water until he couldn't breathe. Maybe he could drown himself. That would be an easy way out.

But he knew he couldn't die yet. He just had to last a little longer until… Until…

He lifted his head for a quick breath before submerging himself again; the water blocking out all

sounds until he focused on himself completely, chanting the mantra he'd been clinging to.

Kill your heart and fight.

Kill your heart.

And fight.

The next time he looked at himself in the mirror, he saw an expressionless boy. Teito Klein was dead. There was only the nameless boy, 2741, in his place.


The church was unusually quiet for once, due to the fact that Bishop Frau had retreated to his room with complaints of a headache. Hakuren was unsure of whether this was truly the case or not. Bishop Labrador had disappeared into his garden again, to converse with the flowers, Hakuren thought. Bishop Castor was gloomily sewing something by the water fountain, talking to Razette in a hushed voice. He had not seen Teito but the three bishops insisted that he was alright.

Frau had tried numerous times to distract himself from the loss of Teito by various methods, but the porn magazines weren't fun to read anymore when there wasn't danger of an annoyed boy finding him and kicking him in the face. Flirting with the nuns had lost its appeal when he remembered last time Frau had flirted with the boy, he'd been extremely upset and stormed into the rain eventually leading to his capture. Heck, even playing pranks on Castor didn't work, partly because Castor's reactions were too similar to Teito's.

Then he remembered that after Teito had fallen from the balcony, he'd placed a porn magazine in one of the boy's books, hoping to get the boy to read it by catching him off guard. Frau rolled off his bed, where he had been moping for the past three days, and yanked open the door. The corridor was deserted and so it gave him an opportunity to sneak into Teito's room. The room was relatively new, the occupant had only recently moved in, but there were things which clearly defined the room as Teito's.

The stack of books all around the room and the pink hairs from a Fyulong, just to name a few. The magazine in question had been thrown onto the ground carelessly, as if in rage, the book it had been concealed in open at the page and lying on the bed. Frau picked up the magazine and turned to leave but something held him back. This room; it was Teito's.

He closed the book on the bed, smirking slightly at the professional sounding title; Teito had always liked to challenge himself when it came to academic matters. The bed was unexpectedly warm, and Frau reveled in it as he lay on his side, breathing in the scent of the pillow; the scent of Teito. An interesting mixture of ink and leather.

He somehow ended up hugging the pillow to his chest and inhaling deeply. It felt good, like he was hugging the boy himself. And he wished he could but Teito had long been taken to the military fort.

But he promised himself that he would go and look for him. That he would go and rescue Teito and make everything alright.


She loved to sing to Castor. Ever since he'd rescued her so many years ago from the cage holding her captive. Castor was the first friend she remembered; of course, there were lingering memories of her family who'd once swum with her in the oceans. He'd given her a name; Razette, he'd called her and she loved to hear him call it. But Castor was nothing more than a friend to her and now she was worried about him. She tugged anxiously at his sleeve, a questioning gaze upon her face.

"I'm alright Razette, just a bit confused." She looked at him, rather skeptically, asking for more details. He sighed exasperatedly. "Labrador's acting weird; I don't know what he thinks of me, I don't think he wants to talk to me anymore. And I'm scared." By now, his voice was shaking slightly. "I'm scared that he'll hate me."

Razette sung a few notes, sadly, hating that her friend was upset. She hugged his arm, reassuring him.

Castor leaned down and placed his forehead to hers, smiling. "Thank you, Razette, for being a great friend to me." To anyone passing by, they appeared to be kissing.

Neither of them noticed the flowers which whispered and grew to tell their human friend.


Sorry, due to my weirdness, procrastinating nature and mountain of overdue homework, I will be going on a *tiny* break. You probably won't even notice it ^^