In the dead of night, a man ran at breakneck speed through a forest.

Like a blade, a branch cut the skin, and crimson liquid started to drip from his cheek. He didn't even blink. When the smell of smoke grew in his nostrils, the pace of his steps on the decomposing leaves increased.

Consciousness flowed out from him like the blood from his injured limbs. He was ragged breath and effort; he was one with his target.

Find him, find him, find him was the mantra in his head.

On a quiet summer evening, two men sat in the shade of an oak, relaxing. One of them was sound asleep, his blond head resting against the trunk; the other, shorter and black-haired, was observing the wooded hills in front of them. He inhaled deeply, letting the scent of resin and grass fill his nostrils.

A loud snore made him turn toward the blonde, a smile barely appearing on his lips. "Nii-san, it's time to go," he whispered flatly, brushing his brother's shoulder with the palm of his hand.

The blonde jolted, slurring a few incomprehensible words - which sounded like muffin and don't eat it - in his half-asleep state. Once he fully regained consciousness, he scratched the back of his head and muttered an embarrassed "Sorry, Kasuka..."

Kasuka didn't reply, limiting himself to a nod of his head, but the blonde understood and smiled. They stood up, brushed the soil off their military green uniforms, and started walking through a path which meandered between sparse trees and followed a slope until the edge of a dense forest.

They proceeded in silence, avoiding branches and trunks of secular oaks, until they reached a multitude of green tents geometrically arranged in a clearing hidden by tall trees. Ant-like soldiers went in and out of the tents, chatting and carrying steamy bowls of soup. Supper was ready in their military camp, and everybody was enjoying it after a day full of preparations. Tomorrow, they would break camp and march towards the nearest city to launch an attack to their enemies.

Most of the soldiers were veterans, but between them there were also a hundred new recruits on their first mission, including the two brothers. After years of training in the Military Academy, their supervisors had evaluated them and determined that they were ready for war. They knew that in all probability, within the next twenty-four hours only half the recruits would be sleeping in a tent and not in a mass grave. Of this fifty percent, only another half would pass the night in his own tent and not the hospital one. But, above all, none of them would be gifted with a refreshing sleep.

Ever since Kasuka was fourteen, he claimed to be prepared for death.

The night he and his older brother knocked the majestic door of the Military Academy, begging to be let in, the bearded keeper hissed those words through his toothless mouth as a warning. Kasuka could still hear their echo in his memory, and those hollow eyes were carved in his mind like a mark of fire. But still, Kasuka decided to cross the threshold and let the old keeper ferry them through dark hallways.

Kasuka didn't know what would happen to him tomorrow. While he glanced at the taller man in front of him, who was avoiding a shrub with a clumsy jump, he realized the only thing it mattered was being at his side. His brother seemed indestructible to everyone else, but Kasuka knew his sensibility made him frail like a budding flower, made him human.

I'll protect you, Nii-san.

They had almost arrived to their tent when a dozen giggling men blocked their way and approached them with defiant attitude.

"Look, look! If it's not Heiwajima Shizuo!" one of them mocked. His dyed hair was combed in a strange hairstyle that looked like an oversized banana. While Kasuka wondered how that would fit in a helmet, his brother exhaled and slowly took off his blue sunglasses.

"What did you destroy today, monster?" uttered another one, twisting his chubby face in an annoying smirk. Kasuka didn't even flinch, but his older brother rolled his uniform's sleeves up.

"Hahaha, I bet even his little brother is scared by him!"

Kasuka's black eyes were expressionless. A vein popped on the blonde's forehead.

"True, true! That's why he is always so apathetic!"

All of them exploded into loud laughter.

Shizuo clenched his fists, feeling his blood boil, and a feral growl escaped his mouth.

KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL THEM ALL.

However, Kasuka kept his composure. Seeing that his brother was getting angry, he put a hand on Shizuo's shoulder.

"Nii-san, let's go."

Shizuo shot them a last killer glance before he turned to follow his brother, searching for an alternative path to reach their tent. He was just beginning to calm down when he heard one of the man speaking.

"Hey! Don't you think he's a real beauty? Look at his ass! Come on, leave this monster behind and have fun with us!"

He lost it.

As he flew at the men, Shizuo thought he didn't ask much from life. His only desire was to live peacefully, without provocations.

Heiwajima Shizuo was indeed very prone to surrendering to those who provoked him, and this terrified him to no end. In those moments, his reasoning left, replaced with a savage and uncontrollable rage. He believed that a monster dozed inside of him, providing him with an inhuman strength able to destroy everything and everybody who dared to cross his path when it awoke. This relentless lack of control over his rage and power led him to fear bonds with other people, making him close himself in his solitary shell. Only Kasuka remained by his side and, although he said he didn't fear him at all, Shizuo always worried about hurting him accidentally.

From his earliest memory, Kasuka was his family and shelter. They grew up together and, still together, they left their homeland to join the army. Shizuo firmly blamed himself for the need to leave. His inhuman strength had scared their village's people; over and over again, they tried to kill him.

They called him monster.

He agreed.

Hence, he made up his mind to leave and what else could he become if not a soldier, when he had no money and no skills but his uncontrolled, inhuman strength? He begged Kasuka not to follow him, and to remain in their house, but Kasuka had been firmly opposed and joined the Military Academy with him.

Even here, Shizuo made enemies and was still an outcast, but at the end of the day, it didn't matter. The only thing he cared about were the few moments spent with his little brother. Sporadic words and embarrassed glances were all he needed to feel fulfilled. They didn't discuss anything; they actually barely talked, but he enjoyed just being in the other's presence. Shizuo's everyday goal was just to protect their lives and those precious moments. This responsibility didn't let him sleep at night but, at the same time, having his brother by his side was the reason he woke up every morning trying to improve his self-control.

An animalistic growl left his mouth while he aimed a punch at one of the men who dared to put their filthy eyes on his little brother. When his fist was only few inches from the man's cheek, though, he heard the sound of security catches being removed, and stopped his fist in midair. Even if he was blinded by rage, he knew very well that with a bullet in his skull he wouldn't be able to protect Kasuka anymore.

And then he heard it.

A haughty, annoying voice.

"Get your hands on your head, Shizu-chan."

Among a handful of soldiers who had just arrived, a thin man with raven-black hair stood out, all fair skin and piercing red eyes. He wore an elegant red and gold dress uniform, so much more luxurious than their working ones, which were only simple khaki suits. In spite of the hot weather, above his shoulders lay a black, double-breasted coat whose lapels were extravagantly covered by tanned fur. All in all, his look expressed a sense of self-proclaimed superiority which, crossed with his military rank, led to his apparent certainty that his whole existence was above theirs.

His eyes shone sadistically and became slits, an insane smirk distorting his handsome face. He lifted his right arm, pointing a switchblade toward the man on a rampage. Scattered around him in a half circle, a handful of men aimed rifles at Shizuo's head.

In spite of the firearms pointed at him, Shizuo's reaction was immediate.

He turned to face the raven haired man in a full temper tantrum, fists clenched, jaw tightened.

"Iiiiiiiiiiizaaaayaaaa..."he roared ferally, his already thin self-control annihilated.

Heiwajima Shizuo hated Orihara Izaya's guts. He found everything about the raven haired man loathsome: his strange taste in dressing, his haughty attitude, his voice, his so fucking annoying smirk. But what made him fill with rage was the way Izaya toyed with his life.

Izaya was only twenty-three years old, just like him, but he had joined the army long before. When Shizuo joined the Academy, Izaya's military career as a strategist was already set, a rather unlikely feat at his young age. Their seniors, in fact, found in Izaya's sharpness and unquestionable strategic talent the features of a future commander.

Shizuo still remembered their first encounter. He had been sixteen.

He and Kasuka had been in the Academy for just a couple of days, but Shizuo had already fought against dozens of seniors because their hazing attempts got him angry. That day, he felt the odd sensation of a gaze scorching his flesh, analyzing every single breath he took, and that strange feeling pissed him off immensely.

He had been inside their dormitory. Two rows of old metal bunk beds faced each other in a long, large hallway made of grey concrete walls, floors, and ceiling. Even the sky behind the curtainless windows was dull, flashes of light piercing the clouds before it started to pour down.

Shizuo had just knocked down twenty-and-something men when he found out whose those eyes belonged to. While he was trying to catch his breath after the dust up, sweat dripping from his dyed blond hair, he heard the unmistakable sound of a pair of clapping hands along with a boy's laugh, the creepiest he had ever heard.

He turned, and few steps from him stood a scrawny boy he had never seen before, at least six inches shorter than him, dressed in a strange black and red uniform.

Black hair, fair skin, red eyes.

Despite his small body and delicate features, Shizuo immediately realized he could find no vulnerability in him. At all. The boy reminded him of a cockroach, so tiny and yet indestructible.

"Hi Shizuo, I'm Orihara Izaya. Nice to make your acquaintance," the insect said, his voice clear and more high-pitched than Shizuo's own. He immediately despised the hint of supposed superiority he found in it.

No. It was the boy's whole attitude which was infinitely annoying. Shizuo didn't answer, he just observed the black-haired boy in front of him, trying to evaluate with a glance how suspicious the owner of this child-like body really was.

Izaya's hand was extended, waiting for a handshake that never came.

The raven sighed, and Shizuo snapped.

"You piss me off."

The boy tilted his head on one side and grinned.

"Hmm, what a pity. I thought we could have some fun..."

Izaya had barely the time to end his sentence before a fist flew right past his right cheek. He easily avoided it and, in response, slashed Shizuo's chest with a switchblade (Fuck! Where did it come from?), piercing through the skin and letting crimson liquid gush out from the cut.

Shizuo hissed in pain and surprised at the sight of his bleeding chest.

He had sensed it then, that playing with Orihara Izaya was like playing with fire and he had just burned his fingers. What he wasn't able to predict, at that moment, was the magnitude of the problem he had become involved in.

An insane sneer crept onto the smaller boy's face, and Shizuo was so shocked he almost forgot to fight back.

Izaya didn't fear him at all. On the contrary, the boy was acting like he had just found something extremely entertaining.

The blonde was baffled, but his well-developed fighting instinct got the better on him. He flew at Izaya, but the other young man nimbly avoided his killer punches. The chase began, and in seconds they were out of the hallway and into the pouring rain. From what Shizuo could see, Izaya enjoyed himself; his agility allowed him to easily avoid obstacles and, probably thanks to years of military training, he could run fairly quickly for a long distance before getting tired. Every now and then during their chase, Izaya looked over his shoulder back toward Shizuo, who was panting heavily behind him.

Shizuo ran at breakneck speed after Izaya, clothes soaked with water and blood and mud. He was totally blinded by the desire to catch that obnoxious insect, to throw his thin body on the ground and immobilize it with his stronger one. His hands could already feel the soft sensation that would come with squeezing Izaya's neck, inducing spasms all over those scrawny limbs. He wanted to make him a writhing mess, until every inch of life left those piercing red eyes and that annoying smile died on those lips.

Despite his efforts, the smaller boy was always out of reach.

Their chase into the open fields for military preparation continued until a group of seniors stopped Shizuo, threatening him with their rifles. In a blink of an eye, Izaya was out of sight, and the blonde roared in frustration. What happened that afternoon resulted in a month of additional bone-crushing workouts, hours more spent on the training fields. And if that wasn't enough, men he had never seen before approached him with the intent to fight.

He was furious. Luckily, Kasuka was always by his side, and his brother's presence calmed Shizuo, at least a bit.

Every now and then, Izaya made another appearance, turning Shizuo's life into a living hell. Whenever the blonde sensed those red eyes on him, or spotted that slim, extravagantly dressed figure, the monster in him awoke in all its destructive power. That insect, that flea, even gave him a cute pet-name, just to make fun of him and incite his rage even further.

Shizuo's hate grew stronger day by day, until the thought of killing Izaya became his obsession.

And now, today, years after their first encounter, the flea was threatening him with his lackeys' rifles and Shizuo was just about to punch him (again).

"I wouldn't, if I were you, Shizu-chan. Get your hands on your head right now."

The blond soldier gritted his teeth and emitted a grumbling, lion-like roar, his fists so tightly clenched that nails pierced the skin.

"Izaya, you flea bastard..."

"Right now, Shizu-chan. Your beloved brother would be sad if they gifted you with a bullet to the head, ne?"

Shizuo winced and lifted his hands. The flea's voice was always so obnoxious. It was less high-pitched now that he had grown, but Shizuo swore that there was still something child-like in it. Izaya's body had also changed during those years; he was taller now, though only about average height overall. He was still thin, but no longer so scrawny. His features and facial expressions, however, had remained the same.

"Good boy! My, my, Shizu-chan, could you please behave in a more civilized way? You're such a beast!" Then he burst into an insane laughter. Shizuo almost exploded with rage; that louse was making fun of him. He bet this whole situation was just one of Izaya's games, like always.

The raven, indeed, had an insane fascination with playing with lives like they were just pawns on his beloved chessboard. His strategic capability, which could save the tide of a war, was the straw that broke the camel's back when applied to that mad hobby of his. Shizuo knew Izaya basked in the gratification provided by the results he could obtain manipulating people, just for his own amusement.

That flea thinks he is a god.

"Izayaaaa, I swear, I'm gonna KILL YOU, KILL YOU, KILL YOU UNTIL YOU'RE DEAD!"

In the meantime, Kasuka examined the scene without losing his usual calmness. He was very sorry for his brother; it certainly wasn't a good thing to have Orihara Izaya for enemy, but there was something twisted and obsessive in their mutual hatred that Kasuka couldn't figure out. Just the mention of the strategist's name was enough to make his brother lose his temper. Furthermore, after every chase they had, his brother closed himself in a shell of unresolved rage, and for hours his only words were whispered promises of vengeance. Kasuka always gave him the best moral support he could provide, and since words weren't his strong point, he just sat next to Shizuo, letting him know that Kasuka was by his side.

Izaya burst into a mocking laugher.

"Hahaha, so scary! Sorry to remind you of your total inability to catch me. Anyway, I can't tolerate your violent behavior anymore. You almost make us lose precious human lives, Shizu-chan."

"SHUT UP! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!" the blonde yelled, on verge of exploding once again. Izaya chuckled, satisfied, then he lifted his hand in an order to lower the rifles and turned his back on the raging male.

"See you around, monster."

The strategist waved one hand and sent a last glance to Shizuo who fell to his knees and let out a feral shout. Even when all the soldiers near them took their leave, Shizuo didn't stand up. Gently, Kasuka put his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Dammit, Kasuka. I hate him so much."

Kasuka didn't reply, but Shizuo felt the pressure on his shoulder increase slightly. They remained like that for a while, until Shizuo turned his head to face his little brother, hazel eyes wet with tears of frustration. A bit reassured by his brother's presence, he stood up.

Later that night, Shizuo lay atop his sleeping bag, waiting for sleep alone. Kasuka had left half an hour before since he was on guard duty. The blonde was so grateful to have him by his side; his quiet presence was always successful in calming his nerves.

He sighed.

Kasuka doesn't deserve this. If it wasn't for my strength and temper, he could have been far from the dangers of war, enjoying a peaceful life. He could have been married by now.

Before falling asleep, Shizuo felt his heart tighten in shame.

Tomorrow I'll protect him, with everything it takes.

That night, he dreamt he was climbing a hill covered with white mist, so thick that rolled lazily around his feet. He giggled; it was like walking on tiny clouds. In that first moment, he enjoyed jumping, kicking the mist like a child in a puddle, just to admire the ripples his feet created.

Soon, he felt the sudden urge to dive his whole body in that thin mist. So he lay down, letting that the mist submerged his body in a white cocoon. Feeling relaxed as never before, he inhaled deeply. However, he realized that the mist was little by little making his eyes burn and filling his lungs with thick smoke. And then, pain.

He woke up.

He blinked and asked himself if he was still dreaming.

Black smoke was everywhere.

His sense of self-preservation took over and in an instant, he dashed out of the tent. Outside, the once clear sky was now entirely covered with a layer of soot. The atmosphere was ominous and so stifling he had to cover his mouth so he could breathe without his lungs burning with pain.

While he tried to visualize what was happening around him, he felt something bumping his shoulder.

A high-pitched shout made him forget to check what had hit him. The sound lasted for a blink of an eye, but Shizuo could still hear the echo of the trill resound in his frozen veins.

Another one followed soon after. It was the cry of slaughtered beings, and the killer was hidden in charcoal-grey fog.

Then he heard the drum of steps, approaching at such speed the ground under his bare feet trembled.

Shock made him imagine the entity hidden in the fog like the abominable aliens in horror movies. Fear would have overcome him if the only grain of rational thinking that fear had spared didn't make him realize those monsters existed only in movies and dreams.

It's nothing but a dream. Wake up!

He panicked, because even the realization of this being in a dream wasn't enough to wake him up. Trapped. And what was someone trapped in a nightmare supposed to do?

Through the t-shirt he had hastily shoved over his mouth, he smelled an unpleasant stench lingering in the air. He could sense it approaching along with heavy steps: the reek of burned meat and blood. As the smell reached its peak, another bump on his shoulder made him lose his balance. But, this time, he checked.

His guts clenched at the sight of burned flesh and hollow eyes.

It was the last frame his mind took note of, before reality hit him: soldiers were running out of their tents, screaming in pure terror.

And then, Shizuo spotted the fires; they were everywhere, eating people and tents.

And then the shooting.

And more screams.

Their enemies were attacking.

A sneak attack.

Kasuka.

He began to run like he had never run in his life, not even with the flea. His eyes, his lungs, his throat burned like hell, but he didn't lose speed.

More shootings, more screams.

He ran, lowering his body as much as possible, trying to use the tents to hide himself from the enemy's eyes. Burned corpses were everywhere, their camp now a circle of hell. It was almost impossible to keep his eyes open with all the smoke, but he desperately tried to identify his brother's frame.

He found himself praying to God.

Shizuo didn't know how he made it. It was a miracle that he was still safe and sound in that carnage.

After what seemed eons to him, he found who he was looking for.

Kasuka lay face down on the ground, unconscious, the fire almost brushing his frame. Through the partially burned garments, his fair skin was now black with smoke, his black hair burned on the ends and blood gushing from one (or more?) bullet wound on his leg. Shizuo felt his heart shattering. Immediately, he searched for his brother's pulse and he felt an immeasurable relief when he sensed it.

He didn't lose time. With one quick movement he took his brother in his arms and continued running. He didn't know where to go, but, in the end, it didn't matter at all. He had just to keep running until he was far from that hell, so far that he couldn't see any more of that thick column of smoke in the sky.

For the first time in his life, he was thankful from the bottom of his heart for his inhuman strength, because he barely felt the weight of the body in his arms.

Soon Shizuo found himself avoiding trunks and branches in the forest around the camp. He held Kasuka tight, letting his head rest against Shizuo's strong chest. With one hand, he protected his little brother's face as best as he could, brushing his cheek slightly.

He kept running even when they were out the other side of the forest, until the adrenaline and fear were gone from his system. When he stopped to catch his breath for a moment, salt from his tears made the cuts he didn't realize he had sting. When Shizuo started running again, he couldn't keep himself from crying his heart out. The tears just wouldn't stop falling, fogging his vision, but he didn't falter.

Oh god, we made it... But what about the other soldiers? How many people died? And what about Izaya?

He shook his head. Izaya was Izaya, and he always succeeded in saving his own ass.

Still, he felt his heart clenching.

It was a while before Shizuo stopped again, turning his head for the first time since their escape. Through the tears, he saw the firelight, miles away by now. Everything seemed like just a nightmare; he couldn't believe that something so horrible could have happened. So many lives wasted, all the soldiers he knew were probably ashes now. He felt rage boiling in his veins, but he also understood vengeance was useless. He and Kasuka had almost lost their lives in that hell, and his brother was seriously injured. He had to find someone who could heal him and try to go on. They still had each other, after all.

However, he couldn't refrain from thinking about Izaya once again.

I wonder if I'll see him again.

Perhaps he'll still haunt my dreams...

Perhaps I'll meet him in another life.

Shizuo had almost begun running once more when he felt fists holding his shirt. The smaller body was snuggled slightly into his arms, burying his head in Shizuo's chest. The blonde felt a sudden joy in his heart and tightened his hold, hugging the injured man.

Without being aware Shizuo kissed his brother's black hair, holding him even tighter.

He was so happy to see Kasuka alive and conscious, but he was also worried about his brother's injuries. He was afraid look at his body; what if it was irreparably burned? He couldn't even distinguish his brother's smell; he only felt the stench of smoke and blood.

Shizuo began sobbing quietly, but he didn't stop kissing that black hair. He had never hugged Kasuka before, not even once. Being in each other presence was enough for them, but not this time, not after Shizuo had almost lost him.

He jolted when the man in his arms kissed him back, weakly, in the middle of his chest.

It was time to face the truth.

The blonde sat down carefully and decided to hug him, just one more minute. He kept his eyes closed and buried his face in black strands. He kissed the smaller man one last time, as sweetly as he could, and lifted his head to examine the wounds.

Shizuo felt his heart ache. A bullet had pierced his brother's left knee and on his legs there were patches of burnt skin. Without losing any time, he tore off the collar of his own shirt and wrapping it around Kasuka's injured leg in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Then, ever so carefully, he lifted the smaller man's head from his chest, lightly caressing his cheek. His skin was black with soot and, in the dead of night, it was even hard to see his features.

The man in his arms slowly opened his eyes.

His irises glistened beautifully in the moonlight.

Shizuo, shocked, stared at them.

Red.

A/N: Thanks to my beta, Aira Kay!