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18 September 2011 @ 10:23 pm
Dancing Devil, surviving Aster // Nezumi x Sion  
Title: Dancing Devil, surviving Aster
Chapters: 1/1
Author: burn1ngcha0s
Genre: general
Warnings: n/a
Rating: G
Fandom: No.6
Pairing/Characters: Nezumi, Sion
Synopsis: "You're as harmless as a baby. You're a feeble-minded idiot who doesn't know how to even distrust a stranger. I might not be there to save you every time. I don't expect you to do something extraordinary, but learning to defend yourself at least in way is the bare minimum.“ He had taught Sion to dance. But to survive?
Disclaimer: I only claim rights to the story.

„Did you really have to kill him?“ Sion questions quietly as Nezumi cleans his dagger from blood, unaffected. A feet away, a dead body lies, halfway looking like hit with a disease, if patches of rotting skin splattered all over it with no pattern is anything to go by. Silently, as if it's nothing new to him, he continues wiping the blade, effectively ignoring the white haired boy.

Unsatisfied with the lack of response, Sion tries again. „We could have saved him, maybe; cut it out like you saved my life before, right?“

Throwing the dirty rag away, the taller teen tucks the blade into the depths of his jacket again. He has used guns in the past but prefers close range hand-to-hand combat or knives. Eyes blank, he finally turns his attention to the smaller.

„You saw him; he was screaming in pain. I cut the parasite out from you because I still could ,while it was already too late for him. Plus I don't have my medical kit with me.“ With that, he turns away and quietly sighs. „You can't save everyone, Sion.“

And yet, he knows the white haired boy will try to save everyone he meets on his way.

He is hopeless, Nezumi knows that. An airhead, a too trusting fool who will be taken advantage of, unless he toughens up. He will never change, though – a perfect pray for the cannibals out there, the perverts and the sadists. Sion will be devoured before he even knows it. And Nezumi knows he can't be there all the time to prevent that from happening.

He had taught Sion to dance. But to survive?


The boy says nothing as he tosses a dagger at Sion's feet. He could have asked Rikiga to get him a gun, but didn't. A dagger is more personal and easier to keep hidden.

„Nezumi?“ Sion asks, eying the taller confused. „What do you mean with that?“

„You've never killed anyone, have you?“


„And hopefully, you never will.“ A small smile graces his features for a second. „Therefore, you're a lost cause and will die soon.“ He points at the dagger. „Pick it up.“ As Sion does that, he stuffs his hands in his pockets and smirks. „Now, come and attack me.“

„Excuse me?“ There is a stammer in Sion's voice as he stares at Nezumi with wide eyes and than glances at the dagger in his hand. Nezumi wants to sigh.

„Look. You're as harmless as a baby. You're a feeble-minded idiot who doesn't know how to even distrust a stranger. I might not be there to save you every time. I don't expect you to do something extraordinary, but learning to defend yourself at least in some way is the bare minimum.“ He points at the dagger. „I'll even go easy on you. Now, come at me.“

And to his surprise, without another question or a protest, Sion responds. Launching from his spot, he holds the dagger tight while going for the taller. The next second, the white-haired boy finds himself on the ground, Nezumi pinning his down, the dagger in his hand pressed to Sion’s throat. „You're dead,“ he murmurs in Sion's ear before getting up and tossing the dagger back. „Again.“

It's no longer spoons, it's the real thing, and they both know it.

They keep going like this for hours; Sion attacks and Nezumi dances away from the blade as if it was nothing but a child's play to him. Not once has Sion been able to land a hit on the taller, nor even get near enough to touch him. Nezumi taunts him, laughs, provoking him to try harder and when Sion makes a desperate last attempt, he does nothing but kick Sion in the stomach, making him fall back, violently coughing. Picking up the dagger to toss it into the ground only an inch away from Sion's head, he takes the few steps that separate them and crouches down next to the boy. Forcefully, he pulls at the blond hair, jerking Sion's head upwards to whisper in his ear.

„I'll never forgive you if you're just gonna drop dead like a worthless mongrel.“

And just like that, he gets up again as if it never happened. He doesn't help Sion get back on his feet or readjust his hair falling out from the usual somewhat messy ponytail. He no longer shows any emotion as their dance continues, Sion trying to subdue him and him easily evading every attempt.

A few times, Nezumi has to admit, Sion does get close. There is a new glint in his eyes, Nezumi notices. He likes it, though: Sion has finally made up his resolve. His footing is more stable, his movements becoming more coordinated with the rest of his body. Sion is a fast learner, he noticed it before. The dancing lesson must've paid off, after all, he muses to himself while blocking the dagger coming his way. Maybe Sion is not so hopeless when push comes to shove, after all.

He can never imagine Sion actually wielding any weapon, though. The image is too absurd to even imagine. While he is already a vengeful rebel, having gone through more than one his age can imagine, Sion is still as innocent as ever. It’s like that rainy night four years ago never ended – just like he was brought in from the rain, fed and patched up, Sion will always follow his heart. He follows his heart even if it gets him into troubles just waiting around the corner.

Even though hope is a hopeless thing, Nezumi can only hope that Sion will never have to go through more than he already has, and knowing how to protect himself will be all he needs.

In a moment of realization that the white haired boy has crawled under his skin deep enough to make him worry about him, Nezumi is almost caught. Barely in the nick of time, he dodges and pulls out his own dagger to retaliate. Metal meeting metal, the two stare each other down before jumping back to dash forward and clash again.

If it's experience Sion needs to survive in this wasteland, Nezumi will give it.

It's a surprise for Nezumi when Sion finally manages to break through his defense. He hadn’t expected it anytime soon. For a moment, time stills and they stand like that; Sion, hand stretched, the tip of his blade resting at Nezumi's midsection and Nezumi, eyes wide, staring down at the blade pointed at him. The look Sion is carrying is both of shock and confusion, as if asking what now? and Nezumi wants to scream at him.

„You don't stop to think when you've wounded someone who was trying to hurt you,“ he barks and twists Sion's arm enough to make him drop the dagger, pulling his own blade up to meet Sion's neck like before. „You're still dead.“

And like that, he lets Sion go and tucks away the blade. Not sparing a glance, he begins to descend the hill. Behind him, Sion is still at loss.

„But...“ he starts weakly, and Nezumi has to force down another sigh.

„You're still a complete natural,“ he dryly remarks as Sion catches up with him. „It's getting late; you can't do anything in the dark. We'll continue this tomorrow.“

Even though sweaty and tired, Sion sends him a smile and a nod in affirmation which Nezumi decides to ignore. What an idiot... „It was just coincidence you got me; I won't go easy on you next time.“

„I know.“

„No, you really don't,“ Nezumi snaps. „You don't know anything.“

The walk to their shared living ground, they remain silent. At the door, Nezumi stops, and turning to Sion, his voice is soft as he caresses the blond hair. „But you will learn.“
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