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Snippet #2412653

located in Cross Academy, a part of Vampire Knight: The Devil's Dance, one of the many universes on RPG.

Cross Academy

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Asuka Fujiwara Character Portrait: Zenith Rosenkreuz Character Portrait: Sora Tsukino Character Portrait: Haruka Yamazaki
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“I don’t believe in Fate, only in choice and consequence.”



He hadn’t expected Yamazaki to be so reckless in her assistance, but then, perhaps he should have. Honestly, though, Rosenkreuz was making this harder rather than easier. It was convenient to have a client who could defend himself well, of course, but it also usually meant that they were fine with putting themselves in more danger rather than less. Cowards were the easiest protection jobs, and whatever else he was, Zenith was not a coward, not on this level, anyway.

Fortunately, it seemed that his familiar was guiding Yamazaki away from the clearing, though honestly he would have preferred it if the man himself followed. Another half-dozen humans was nothing for either of them, of course, but Sora wasn’t the one who held a ceasefire in place simply by existing.

Haruka was met at the treeline by a concerned Sachiko, who’d left Kaede in a safe place and followed when she figured out what was going on. “Haruka-chan! Are you all right?” She could smell a lot of blood, but it wasn’t all this particular human’s. Most of it carried the peculiar scent of Asuka-chan—though Sora had never told her what the other girl was, she had been able to see it. Asuka’s future, or pieces of it, were visible to Sachiko, and she drank in the tidbits happily, for they were as close as she’d ever come to seeing Sora’s future. These four people were so tightly intertwined in the threads of destiny that it was sometimes hard to tell them apart.

It was clear just from looking at the girl that it was best not to remove the knife in her shoulder just now. She needed to be treated at the infirmary, really, and Sachiko turned around, pulling her long hair over her shoulders and presenting her back to Haruka. “Get on, Haruka-chan; we have to get you some help as soon as we can.” Though the scent of blood might have been a deterrent to most of her kind, Sachiko was a Tsukino, and she could put up with it better than most. Glancing down, she noted the white fox, and the smell it bore, and then nodded. “You’re welcome to come too, if Haruka-chan doesn’t mind.” She assumed that if it was here, it had some interest in seeing her to safety, and she didn’t intend to interfere with that.

When Fujiwara was thrown at him, Sora softened the impact as much as he could, given her present state of injury. He could feel the sticky-wet sensation of her blood coating his hands, soaking through his jacket, but he was more concerned for the fact that this meant it was no longer in her body. Her healing seemed to be accelerated, but not enough, and he chose to aid her by placing careful pressure on a few more of the wounds. The wall of fire was an interesting touch; for a moment, the assassin contemplated canceling it, but chose not to. That was a secret he was uncomfortable giving away, and furthermore, it was as he’d thought before: Rosenkreuz was more than a match for a bunch of humans.

The annoyingly-noble bullshit about ‘not involving themselves,’ he let slide. Nobody told him how to live, and that was just the way of it. But in the end, he was much more concerned about Fujiwara’s condition. He’d lost allies on the field of battle before, and he’d lost friends to blades, but he wouldn’t lose her.

The foolish girl tried to send him after Rosenkreuz, but he shook his head. “Then kick me,” he said flatly, “Because I’m not going anywhere. Yamazaki or Midori or Rosenkreuz himself will inform the headmaster, but none of them are in much of a position to help you.” One was injured herself, one was simply a familiar, and one had just walked away from them. That left him, and he at least wasn’t going to walk away.

Closing the intervening distance, he placed one hand on either side of her, palms pressed to the trunk of the tree. He’d caged her with the motion, though that had not been his intention. Tilting his head to one side, he seemed to study her for a moment, then sighed. “You really are reckless, you know that?” Closing his eyes, he sighed through his nose, then cracked them open again. “Two choices, Fujiwara: either I take you to the infirmary for a transfusion or you can have mine here and now, but either way, you need someone’s blood. You wouldn’t be healing this slowly if you didn’t.” Had she been depriving herself for some reason? He certainly hoped he had nothing to do with that. Compensating for the lack was something that took a lifetime to do properly—and it wasn’t something he’d ever wish on somebody else.