Notes: For people who are reading this and are fans of "For the love of a Queen", I'll update it eventually. I was busy with personal problems as I've told you guys but I'm better now. Thank you all so much for your support and understanding. I'm still stuck without computer and I'm having hard time writing from my tablet.

For new readers, thank you for taking your time to read this one-shot; I hope you'll enjoy it. This was actually based and inspired on a obikin story I read

English is not my mother language and I'm dyslexic so mistakes are bound to be made, I'm sorry in advance.

Reviews are the only payment authors get, so please leave one for me.

Warnings: Major character death, some genderbending, alternative universe, soul bond, reincarnation, soulmates.

Disclaimer: 1) Obviously I don't own Vampire Knight. If I did Kaze would have been endgame.
2) The poem used is from the amazing artwork 25 Lives, which can be seen here: .

Summary: "Thousand lifetimes have passed since our very first meeting and I have yet to learn to share you." They were only Zero Kiryu and Kaname Kuran once, but they've been together much longer than that.

25 Lives

The very first time I remember you, you are blonde,
and you don't love me back.

We sit down for dinner at your home. It's a happy occasion; everyone is laughing and smiling with a glass of fine wine in one hand and a plate full of delicious food in front of them, and you're glowing with happiness; your son was born a month ago.

It has become easy over the years to hide how I feel, to hide the strange memories of before – I can never pinpoint when it was, exactly – I think it was before the time when we were together, the time you loved me with the same intensity I love you now.

I know you don't remember. If you did, you would have never married her.

I don't resent her. You're in love with her, and she has done more than I deserve to help me. She has brought me closer to you for she's like a sister to me. I don't hate the child she bore – your son looks just like you, he's a little piece of yourself and my heart hurts at the sight of him. All this time we've known each other, and neither you nor she have ever suspected.

I watch you toast, brushing a lock of golden hair out of your shining eyes.

I still wish – to this day – you were mine.

The next time you are brunette,
and you do.

I meet you inside an elevator, and I know instinctively that it's you.

We're stuck for hours without light between level four and five of the company you're working for. You confide later that you've always been afraid of small spaces and it's a torture to use the elevator every day.

I hold your hand and instruct you to take deep breaths while they work to get us out. You're holding my hand tightly to get some courage and it doesn't escape my notice how small and delicate your hand is. I never want to let it go.

I try to distract you by beginning a small talk.

You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen, and you tell me later you've always loved a tomboy.

Your smile is like the sunlight; bright and beautiful, your long dark hair the color of warmth and home, and I love you for years and years.

After a while I give up trying to guess if the color of your hair means anything,
because even when you don't exist
I'm always in love with you.

The Council sends me to supervise a small village that was build while ago. The war has ended long ago but they feel like they should continue having the upper hand; the element of surprise.

The village is utterly astonishing. The pearl colored buildings sparkle majestically in the sun and all around are the golden leaves of some unknown plants I have never before encountered. The residents of this unearthly village are bustling around, minding their business and politely greeting one another as they pass. Wide golden gates have marked my entrance into the village and now, as I ventured farther into it, I notice even more of the perfection that classified this village. A stream babbled to the right of the village's road and little rainbow fish flowed through it, swimming rhythmically with the water.

I'm in awe; the place is breathtaking, and the people are friendly.

"We've never met a real vampire," they say, their voices full of awe. They cook their most exquisite cuisine, and treat the council members, including myself, to a night of dancing and singing and story-telling.

"Siera makes the best art," one of the girls says, presenting me with a small, delicate painting. It depicts a young man's face; my heart catches as I stare at the image.

"Who is this?" I ask her, reaching out with one finger to gently touch the sketched curve of his cheek.

"Rery zo kiu," the girl says proudly. "He's only a legend; he didn't really exist. But the story is that he was the bravest of our people, and defended our villages against the ancient beasts."

I softly brush the line of your jaw, and I know I won't meet you in this life.

I remember most fondly those lifetimes where we get to grow up together,
when you share your secrets and sorrows and hiding places with me.
I love how you play along with my bad ideas,
before you grow up and realize they're bad ideas.

In this life we meet as children; it's the first time that happens, but it won't be the last.

My parents says little children mustn't go out running in the fields, climbing trees, getting muddy in the river and fighting like the children from the lower class do, she say it's improper and unacceptable but I go against their rules like I always do.

We sneak out in the early morning, before my mother has woken and stoked the fire to get stew boiling, just as the farmhands are beginning to drive the cattle in for milking. We rush out our secret meadow and spend the day there, running in the long grass and laughing.

"Mother says I should spend more time with girls," you say as we lie in the shade of an old oak tree in the mid-afternoon. "Says it's not proper to go running around with you. She thinks I should chase after girls because one day I'll have to make one of them my wife."

I feel a stab of jealousy in my chest. Thousand lifetimes have passed since our very first meeting and I have yet to learn to share you.

I stroke your hair; they're the same extraordinary color they were when we first met, and while blond, red, and brown look amazing on you, I prefer the original color.

"When we're older, we'll get married," I promise you, taking your hand. "Then we can run and do whatever we wish together all we want, and no one can stop us."

You give me your sunny, heart-stopping smile. "Alright. I'll marry you, then."

"And I'm going to climb this tree," I say, leaping up to the lowest branches before you can stop me.

The older you would have protested; the younger you laughs.

(And in our times together I have many, many bad ideas).

I look at the sea of monsters that surround me. My teeth chattered and my spine tingled with fear.

The swishes and hisses of swords slashing through the air made the battle seem more perilous. His sword rose. You fell.

His death was quick and probably painless – something I will regret in the near future but you're more important.

I kneel beside you, the tick snow is too cold and it hurts my skin but I no longer care. I support your head and I feel the sticky wetness of blood, I can feel wetness on my eyelids, but my lips are so dry I have to lick them, for fear they would crack and bleed.

"Hold on," I beg you, pressing my hand to the gash in your chest. "You can't- just hold on."

You raise your hand to my cheek and I press my lips to your palm. "I'm dying," you tell me softly what I don't want to acknowledge. "Try to get out of here. I couldn't stand it if both of us died."

I bring your broken body closer to mine and I hold you tightly, I can see you, I can feel your touch, I can feel your pain. I have seen you smile, laugh, being happy. I have held you in my arms and you have held me in yours, we have made passionate love together.

The howl and scream of battle raging around us, and I weep for you.

I don't tell you that if I die now, chances are we'll be together much sooner than if I live.

When we meet as adults you're always much more discerning.
I don't blame you.

My sister introduced us, this time. You work with her, at her school, and she thought we'd be perfect for each other.

Sometimes I never meet my sister, sometimes we're close and sometimes we grow apart, but she always thinks you and I are meant to be.

Sometimes I wonder if she, too, remembers.

You don't think being an artist teacher is a serious profession. You think my sister was just being kind to me, or to you, you're not sure which, trying to set us up. You don't think I consider you as a serious option, you're shy and distant and you're managing to convince yourself that you don't see me that way, either.

I'm just trying to change your mind.

Yet always, you forgive me.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Zero," I say once the funeral is over. "If I had listened-"

"It's not your fault, Kuran," you say, shifting slightly. You have yet to get used of me calling you with your first name. Your eyes are tired, unbelievably weary. "Cross knew what he was doing, he knew that he was going to die and yet, he wasn't scared." There's a tone of respect in your voice and you look down at your feet, rubbing your eyes. "Maybe he should have never known, but you shouldn't have had to fight her on your own either."

It's not the first time you forgive me, or the last. Even after everything I do this time, you forgive me in the end.

This life is one of the bad ones, where I love you but you can't love me, where everything comes crashing down around us; rules, blood, species, society, betrothals, and expectations.

But still, in the end, I have hope.

As if you understand what's going on, and you're making up for
all the lifetimes in which one of us doesn't exist,
and the ones where we just, barely, never meet.

I'm waiting in the airport for my plane to arrive, in this life I'm a hunter and it's my duty to protect the humans. My flight has been delayed by two hours. I see you when we both arrive at the vending machine at the same time.

"After you," I say politely, rejoicing in my heart, for here you are, I've found you once again.

"Thank you," you say, smiling politely. You're dressed like you're about to go and give an impressive speech, with a business-like shirt and some kind of expensive Italian pants and shiny black shoes. Your long silver hair is wound back into a complex braid on the back of your head.

We're strangers; after this moment we may never meet again, so I take the chance to talk to you. "Going somewhere nice?"

"Suita," you reply, "I've been accepted in the 'Osaka Gakuin University' and I want to check out the city to become familiar with it."

"Wow," I say, and I'm impressed, but I'm also sad. All I have is the clothes I'm currently wearing and the few possessions in my duffel; I'm going to Tokyo to kill a vampire, or so I hope, there's still the peace treaty around but history is made to be repeated; the vampires are tired of holding back and the hunters are aching to kill. It would take a miracle for us to see each other again.

"The University of Osaka Gakuin is funding my apartment," you say, in the way of someone absently making conversation while they focus on something else. After this, you probably won't even remember my face.

Your drink clunks out of the machine, and you give me a smile. "Nice to meet you," you say, and then you're gone into the crowd.

I look you up, much later, and find out you're a respected professor of international studies at the University of Gakuin.

I never make enough money to visit.

I hate those. I prefer the ones in which you kill me.

I'm old, this time, when I meet you, and you are young, and we are standing on opposite sides of the battlefield.

I have let myself become bitter and twisted in this life; sometimes I don't learn from previous mistakes. They call me the monster with no fear, the terror of a thousand worlds, the destroyer. I vanquished the hunters, the Association, and any enemy who stands in my way.

Any except you.

The last surviving hunter, they call you. You come to me in my own fortress, carving a bloody path through my guards and servants, and stand at the base of my throne, chest heaving, bright eyes gleaming. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and I know killing you will destroy me.

"End this," I tell you, "Kill me."

You hesitate. I remember; hunters aren't used to the sight of purebloods begging to die. I attack, then, to make it easier for you, but there's no effort behind it.

You pull the trigger of the gun I gave you a long time ago and a bullet from bloody goes through my heart, and it feels like release.

But when all's said and done, I'd rather surrender to you in other ways

We got married this afternoon; the feasting and drinking have gone on well into the night.

Your eyes flash brightly in the dim light as we enter inside the bedroom of our new home. You come closer, pressing your hand to my chest – just over my heart, and smile that naughty smile of yours. "Now you're mine, husband," you whisper.

Finally, I think, and I say, "Always yours, my wife."

You push me away to our bed, laughing in your free, wild way, and you run out of the bedroom, knowing I would willingly run after you. You always loved a good chase.

I will chase you forever.

Even though each time, I know I'll see you again, I always wonder
is this the last time?
Is that really you?

We meet out on the windswept sweep of the prairie at sunset, and for a moment when I look at you I'm not sure it really is you.

It upsets my whole balance, seems almost to destabilize the ground beneath my feet. I have always known when it's you. Always. My feelings have never been wrong.

You're riding your horse in an easy, relaxed manner, your hat pulled down over your eyes. "Nice day for it, Sherriff," you comment, and in the same moment you look up, and our eyes meet.

I know then that my moment of confusion was just that. It's you; it's definitely, definitely you. It's not in the eyes or the voice or the face or any physical feature. Somehow I just know.

"All quiet on the range," I reply, with a smile and a nod, and you ask if you might accompany me back into town.

We ride off into the light of the glowing sun, my faith renewed.

And what if you're already perfectly happy
without me?

The issue of social class has divided us before. Sometimes we overcome it. Sometimes we don't.

This time we don't. We can't, really.

This time I'm a peasant, a lowly farm girl come to bring pigs to market, when I see you pass by. The whole street clears to allow the princess through, golden and smiling in her high carriage.

I see your face and I know. You are blonde and beautiful and pure as snow; I am skinny, ugly and dirty with mud of the field. There would be no reason for you to look twice at me, even without the handsome man holding your hand, kissing your cheek, basking in the warmth of your smiles.

I watch you go by, and resign myself to the knowledge that this is another lifetime we will not be together.

Ah, but I don't blame you; I'll never burn as brilliantly as you.

It's only fair that I should be the one
to chase you across ten, twenty-five, a hundred lifetimes
until I find the one
where you'll return to me.

This time we meet in the forest; you've always loved nature and I have taken the habit of going home through the forest. I am trudging up a narrow, snowy road through the woods, the dimness of twilight falling all around. I'm tired due to the heavy firewood I carry but my little sister insisted of lighting the fireplace.

When I see your figure from afar, I don't know that it's you, at first, but then something about you catches my eye, and I stop. You're gazing the blue lake where your horse is drinking, you're saying something to the white mare but the only thing I understand by reading your lips is the mare's name.

Lily

You're petting the horse's mane when you suddenly stop, and you look hard at me.

"It's a lonely road, far from anywhere," I call, mingled joy and trepidation rising in my heart, for here you are, I've found you again. "Perhaps you should join me to my castle, since darkness is nearly upon us. You can stay for the night, for safety's sake."

You cock your head to the side and place your hand behind your ear, signaling that you cannot hear me.

I come closer to you, the sound of my boots soft through the snow, the firewood dropped and forgotten behind me. I repeat what I previously said – now I'm much closer to you – and your eyes are searching my face, though I can't guess what you're looking for. You don't reply to my offer.

After a minute, you raise your hand and show me your fingers; that's when I noticed it; you're wearing the golden ring I made you in our previous lives when we exchanged our vows of eternal love, it always ends up in my possession and it's the first time in our lifetimes that you have it.

Your face breaks into a sudden, brilliant smile as you take a step back. You wink at me before you turn your back at me to start running. My eyes widen and I don't hesitate to chase after you.

You remember

Notes: It's actually the first time I write in first person, could someone tell me if it was satisfying ?

Facts:* Suita is a real city located in northern Osaka Prefecture, Japan.
* Osaka Gakuin University is a mid-level private liberal arts university located in Suita, Osaka Prefecture, Japan. The university focuses on law, economics, and international studies.
*For the name Rery zo kiu I actually made an anagram; it's Zero Kiryu if you put the letter correctly (Obviously I'm a Potterhead) xD