This story is cross-posted from a secondary account: Wan Qian.

01 - Gaze

It was an obscure café, one that would only be found by people who had sharp eyes, people who could not sleep, people who were bored and people who wanted to be alone. It was located in a blind street, behind a hotel, and its painted windows faced brick walls that seemed to give the impression that whoever walked down the alley was being squashed. It was not advisable for claustrophobics to pass by this café; Tokyo after all had many other favorable locations and shops.

Customers, what handful of them, referred to the café as Nameless, just for the sake of giving an actual nameless shop something to call it with whenever by chance it would be mentioned in conversations or phone calls. The place itself was not as bad as its location: it has a Swiss-like ambience, full of beautifully varnished dark wood pieces, dim tapering lamps and wide, scrubbed tables. The bar was located some five to eight meters from the door, and behind it stood shelves filled with a random combination of wine and coffee. It also served light meals, from sandwiches to pancakes and some variations of pasta.

Kaname liked to go to the Nameless whenever he felt that the Academy and even Yuki was grating on his nerves. He loved his peace and quiet, and the place seemed to offer a kind of solace and refuge from all the nightly humdrum that have comprised most of his years. He would go there clad as simply as he could, usually in dark shirts, slacks and shoes, sitting by his favorite spot by the windows, the windows which always faced the imposing brick walls. Sometimes he would stay for until daybreak, with just enough time to go back to the Moon Dorm before the sun's lethal fingers reached him. Sometimes he would stay for minutes only, ordering his customary cappuccino, to be taken in with a blood pill or two, and he would leave. Sometimes he would order a pancake or a salad and take his time eating. It all depended on his whim.

Tonight Kaname went to his usual place to calm the disquiet in his soul. It was around eleven in the evening, he hadn't really bothered to check; he'd just flitted out the window when nobody was looking, skipping classes as he went. Not that Kaname Kuran needed all those classes anyway. He could probably teach the Day Class himself, if only the sun would let him. That was a nice thought. Yuki had always said he'd look good in a teacher's clothes…

Yuki. His sister, his fiancée. She was beside herself lately, finalizing the preparations of their coming wedding. At the start Kaname had joined in her work with much enthusiasm, but lately though, he couldn't really define why he was losing interest. Or maybe he could really define it – he was just too scared to tell himself the reason why he was starting to dislike the routine, the expectant look in everyone's eyes in the dorms. Ichijou surely had caught on what was happening to him, but the guy never asked until he said something.

There were no stars for tonight. Kaname hoped that it wouldn't rain on him while he was heading back to the Academy. He had disdained to bring the umbrella Aido had offered; it was horrendously pink, even to his eyes. If worse came to worse…well he always enjoyed a walk under a downpour.

He peered down his cup with crimson eyes. He'd drank all the cappuccino an hour ago, together with two blood pills. He was better now, no longer minding the café's two other customers in his thoughts. Maybe he should order four pancakes. Yes. Actually he felt like eating this evening.

Kaname twisted a bit in his chair, already raising his left arm to call the attention of the elderly shop owner to place his order. There was a sudden ring as the shop door opened, obscuring him from view, and a fourth customer entered the shop. Kaname, slightly ruffled for being obscured from the shop owner's view, decided to glance up the offending newcomer's face.

And would wish, later on, that he didn't.

He found himself looking up into sharp, winter gray eyes that could have shamed his own when he was angry. The coldness those sharp, sharp eyes seemed to freeze Kaname into his chair as he let his left arm fall quietly back to his side. They had long lashes, those eyes, long enough to rival Ruka's or Rima's, maybe, but it was their brightness, their sharpness that made him…

Whoever it was, the person immediately walked up to the bar and spoke quietly toward the shopkeeper. Afterwards the figure moved toward the far end of the dim room, choosing the most obscure table he could find behind the black grand piano in the middle of the salon. He – Kaname was sure it was a guy – sat with his back facing the rest of the shop, and let down the hood of the bottle green jacket he was wearing. Blue-black locks of hair cascaded down his back, hanging down to his waist.

Kaname shook his thoughts and raised his left arm again, waving politely at the shopkeeper. The elderly man immediately went to him with a piece of those little sheets of paper he always carried, a sharpened pencil in his hand.

"Yes, sir?"

The vampire gave his own smile. "Three regular pancakes. No butter. Just the syrup."

"And your syrup is?"

"Maple, as usual."

"In ten minutes."

Waiting had always been easy for him. But that evening, it started to get difficult. Kaname's thoughts strayed again and again toward those gray eyes he'd glimpsed. They were so sharp…so sharp to the point that you could no longer read any emotion in them. They were alive with a certain light but at the same time dead from within. Kaname wondered why he was thinking of somebody's eyes now. The person's gaze bothered him. He cast a look toward the corner of the room where the gray-eyed unknown had seated himself. He still had his back and his hair facing most of the café.

Won't you turn around?

He waited. He hoped the figure would turn around and give him a face, so he could stop thinking of his dead eyes. But Kaname Kuran waited in vain; even as the shopkeeper came with the man's order (some sort of sandwich and tea, it seemed), the man himself never budged an inch, never made a move to turn around. Surely such a forceful gaze as his would be felt by now. If the man felt him looking, he didn't show it.

Look at me.

"Your pancakes, sir."

"T-thank you."

He was distracted. He was getting annoyed over a small matter such as this, an unknown man refusing to look at him when he certainly felt the attention. Kaname had a fleeting urge to walk up to the man's table and demand what was wrong with him, but if he did that, that would be the epitome of strange. Besides, Kaname Kuran didn't go charging into stupid and reckless things.

I said look at me, damnit. Look at me.

The man, whoever it was, finished his sandwich and rose easily. Kaname hoped he would get a glimpse of a face now, but his hope was dashed when the guy pulled his hood up first, seemingly crushing those frail strands of hair around his head. When he did turn, only his nose and lower face was visible. He had pale skin. He went to the counter, paid with exact change, and walked out into the night.

The pancakes were forgotten.

--

Distractions.

Kaname Kuran had no time for distractions, much less ridiculous ones like a pair of sharp gray eyes. He had gotten distracted like this before, nothing to worry. But, in the old times, the effective cure to such a distraction was to personally hunt down the person and drink his or her blood until the person died. Kaname could no longer do that now, and somewhere, at the deepest corners of his head, his brain told him he was not after this guy's blood. At least, not yet.

Yuki had somehow noted he was agitated, and had tried to ask him to help her choosing the colors for their invitation cards. He'd refused point-blank and apologized soon after, excusing himself that he was just really rather off lately. She'd kissed him and told him he shouldn't push himself too hard. Somehow the chuckle he answered her with didn't sound enthusiastic.

It grated his nerves that his schedule for the next three days didn't permit him to get out of the dorms. He grew uneasy, his temper just a bit shorter. He'd even snapped at Ichijou when the other dared to inquire what was wrong.

Kaname knew he had to get out.

HAD to.

He took the guy's place for this night – that corner behind the grand piano. But he didn't have his back turned to the room. It struck him how this place could offer so much visibility while guaranteeing that you weren't easily seen. It was a perfect corner for people who were out to plan things, or had things to say they'd rather not let others in on.

He finished his pancakes too, see. He ordered them earlier and finished them all off to compensate for his wasted cash some nights ago.

This isn't making sense. What am I doing here?

There were just two customers that evening: himself and a batty lady who muttered into her cup of tea about the things that prevented her from sleeping. Kaname had been hoping for three hours now that those familiar gray eyes would make themselves known again.

He just needed a face. If he got a face, he could forget and be at peace again. This agitation would not be healthy if he let it continue.

The bell rang. Kaname tried hard not to look up, but he failed. He looked up, eagerly.

It was not what he expected.

The gray-eyed distraction (where did that come from?) entered as if he owned the place. Unlike that first glimpse Kaname had of him, he was not hiding his features this time. His hair was longer than Kaname thought it was; even in a ponytail he was sure when let loose, those rich blue-black strands would reach past the guy's buttocks. He was pale; pale enough to rival himself. He was tall, slender, but Kaname knew the figure of a fighter. The guy also moved with a fluid kind of grace that made it look like every step he took was a small dance in its own.

Kaname stared too much. He quickly noted the guy's uniform - black leather with definite insignias and markings of gold. He did not miss the golden coats-of-arms of the military arm of the Vatican on the man's chest. The guy was an Exorcist, then. Those humans with mystic powers and supernatural fighting abilities that hunt down and destroy soulless monsters called Akuma, creatures not so different from Level E's. Kaname never really bothered to study the lore of the Akuma. The Vatican was wary about the vampire world but kept away most of the time, and Kaname didn't want unwanted conflicts.

Exorcist…

The man stood there, as if he went to the wrong place. He seemed intent on catching something. Kaname let his eyes look at whatever they could. The uniform fitted the guy's figure perfectly. He had a sheathed katana at his side, his left hand holding it furtively. Kaname did not need to confirm that the guy probably had lightning-fast reaction time. He wondered though, how this man fought off his own kind of enemies with that dancing gait he had…

…And to his tremendous surprise, found himself subjected under the scrutiny of those eyes again. Kaname blinked idly, his face showing nothing of his apparent shock of being spotted. The exorcist looked like a hunting mastiff finally catching on the scent of a prey. Straightening himself, he turned on his heels and walked toward Kaname.

Kaname Kuran was suddenly aware that finally having a face to complete the picture of the eyes that haunted him was no real help. This exorcist, whoever he was, was beautiful enough to be a girl if that hard expression of determination and no-nonsense left his face. He had an ageless kind of beauty, one that made it difficult to guess how old he was, but Kaname's instincts told him this guy was young…young, only 18 years old perhaps. Those locks of blue-black hair framed the face in an impossibly pretty way, the darkness of the hair accentuating the pale skin and the sharp, alert features.

For a moment the exorcist stared him down. Kaname couldn't stand the scrutiny. The man looked at him like he was some insect he longed to crush under his boot heels. Nobody looked at Kaname Kuran that way. Nobody.

Except this person, apparently.

"You."

Unceremoniously, the exorcist pulled up the chair across his and sat down. Kaname stared back silently.

"What." He said.

Those gray eyes never faltered. Kaname looked deep into them, delving for some sort of clue on this man's thoughts or emotions. He found nothing, just cold, unfathomable depth.

"I have something for you." The exorcist said. He reached into his coat pocket and drew out a fragment glowing with a faint green light. "This is Innocence. It has reacted to your presence."

He just stared into those eyes.

"You can start by giving your name." Kaname said.

His order was ignored.

"Innocence deems you worthy of being a host." The exorcist went on, giving no indication that Kaname just demanded for his name. "As an exorcist general, I extend to you the invitation of the Black Order to join our ranks."

Kaname drew back and put a hand to his mouth, the way he usually does when he was thinking deeply. This wouldn't do at all. This gray-eyed distraction ignored him. And he couldn't read him one bit. Kaname stared at the glowing fragment on the table.

I have no time for this.

He raised his gaze again, daring to look into those eyes that held nothing and yet everything.

"And why," he said. "Should I join?"

He was going to extend this talk for as long as he could until he had a name.