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Shadowless: A Loveless FanFiction

Novel By: Zexion
Fan fiction

Victor and Xavier are best friends. They had been ever since Xavier met Victor after fleeing Russia to China, where Victor lived. They bonded over their similar backgrounds of different races and of running away from their pasts, and when Victor moves once again to Tokyo after losing his ears and tail in the same night as he lost his parents in a car accident, Xavier soon follows, not knowing that their intimacy is one of the reasons that Victor left. Things begin to change when they meet Soubi and Ritsuka… for Xavier at least. Victor already knows of Sacrifices and Fighters, but his Russian friend is only clued in after Victor discovers a mark on his back… a mark that they both share. The strangest, most baffling birthmarks that spelled out the word “Shadowless”. Realizing that they are Sacrifice and Fighter, Victor appeals to Xavier to go with him to the academy of Septimal Moon, but Xavier, a free spirit, wants nothing to do with the whole ordeal. He didn’t want to be shackled down by any restrictions. Tensions rise when Xavier turns away from Victor for the very first time when the Fighter leaves him, Soubi, and Ritsuka to join Ritsu and Septimal Moon, and things only worsen when Soubi and Ritsuka attempt to step in and assist Xavier in changing Victor’s mind before Ritsu can corrupt the young fighter and hand him off to another Sacrifice. View table of contents...



Submitted:Jan 29, 2013    Reads: 18    Comments: 0    Likes: 1   

PROLOGUE The sky was alight with the refreshing gleam of a new spring sun. The little snow that was on the ground was rapidly melting, soaking into the grass and dirt and replenishing the vibrant green. Water washed sidewalks clean and made the already-blossoming flowers and trees gleam. It was the perfect day on anyone's list. Temperature in between warm and cool, beams of golden rays glowing and silhouetting elegant architecture in enticing radiance… it was a day everyone could fall in love with. Which was why a young Victor Delaqua wasn't surprised to see university students milling about outside a beautifully carved building, clustered in groups or alone, lounging around the grass, tables, and benches that surrounded the university. Some were reading, some were talking and laughing, others were studying in groups, but few were painting or drawing, which dampened Victor's spirits some. He had thought this was a university of the arts, and figured there would be dozens of artists capturing the gorgeous day on canvas and paper. Turning his attention away from the school's inhabitants, Victor caught sight of a certain color. Pink-white and nearly fluorescent. His feet moved, dragging his body away from the front entrance walkway and around the side of the building, where there was a plethora of budding and blooming sakura trees. He inhaled deeply as soon as he was among them, soaking in the pure, sweet and slightly cloying scent, letting his eyes fall shut. Not realizing how much time was passing, the next time he opened his eyes the sun was arcing over the point of noon. He blinked, raising a hand to shield brilliant blue eyes. Auburn hair drifted in the wind, and a ghost perception came over him of ears pressing back against his skull, shielding their delicate inner recesses from the abrupt chill of the swirling zephyrs. But there were no longer ears there to protect. He had only his regular human ears now. At age thirteen, Victor was an adult. "Hello." The teenager jumped at the sudden voice and spun on his heel, for the first time seeing a man sitting in the shade of one of the sakura trees. A canvas lay on the ground before him, protected from the snow and prickling grass by a large sheet of plastic placed under the wood frame. What Victor noted first was the incredible violet of those eyes. They held a seriousness, yet playfulness, and were shadowed with dark memories and emotion. The next thing Victor became aware of was the fact that the man- probably in his early twenties- had no ears or tail, himself. He was one of few that Victor had seen outside the academy so far that lacked their… innocence. White-blonde hair drifted like ink or feathers down the man's back, held by a leather band. Circular glasses perched on a long, narrow nose, and slightly quirked lips held a secretive smirk. Those lips moved again, speaking to Victor from a few meters away, "What's your name?" "Victor Delaqua," the boy answered hesitantly, gripping the strap of the messenger bag slung around his torso nervously. The black polish on his nails seemed to catch the stranger's attention. A strange fascination took over the man's attractive face, making Victor's heart skip a beat. He wasn't sure whether to be scared or excited by the blonde's attention, but he was definitely nervous. Steel-toed boots scuffed against the grass, brushing a little sweep of snow aside. He turned his eyes away from the man to stare at the arc he had made in the crystalline, rapidly disintegrating snow, trying to calm himself down. It had taken him a short amount of time to learn Japanese, but he was still self-conscious about his terrible accent. The stranger hummed, rising from his kneeling position to balance on one foot and knee, bracing an elbow on his other knee and cupping his jaw in his hand. His eyes narrowed on the redhead contemplatively. A few moments later, he spoke, "An English name but a Chinese accent? Interesting." "My mother was British… we lived with my father in China." He considered that for another second or two before waving Victor towards him. The teenager obeyed, again, his body battling itself with the urge to run or stay. Before he knew it, though, he was standing next to the man, who had turned to the side and began sifting through a large canvas bag he had propped against the trunk of the tree he was under. With a crackle and shriek, he pulled out another sheet of plastic, ripping it with a smooth, practiced motion and laying it down beside him. Victor looked at him questioning, once again following the motion of a slender, gesturing hand that urged him to sit down. He settled on the plastic cross-legged, pulling his legs close to his body and hugging his messenger bag to his chest. Unable to staunch his curiosity, the boy leaned slightly so that he could look over the artist's shoulder, and breathed in a pleased gasp at the precise image of the sakura trees in the golden sunlight. It was like looking at a depiction of some sort of wonderland, and Victor wouldn't have believed it was real if he hadn't been standing in and beholding it, himself. In the center of the canvas, amongst the swipes of pastel paint, was the figure of a scrawny, short boy with dark red hair, staring up at the sky, his eyes shielded by a fall of bangs. The boy was wearing all black, and a black leather pea coat about five sizes too large for his frame. A delicate, pale jaw line bled into a long, girlish neck, which disappeared into the collar of his coat. Glittering silver chains swung around the boy's baggy black cargo pants, holding the material to his skinny limbs as if for their dear life. It was Victor; a perfect depiction, right down to the hand that was absently clenching the top button of the coat, just under the collar. "This is amazing," the teenager murmured, wanting to reach forward and admire it closer, but the cold hand falling on his shoulder shocked him from his observations. "My name's Agatsuma Soubi. I'm a student here." "You're a painter," Victor stated, heedless of the obviousness of the statement, "do you paint out here often?" Soubi's lips twitched in amusement. Victor didn't understand what was so funny about the question, but he didn't call the blonde on it. "Sometimes. Today, though, I'm just waiting." Eyebrows scrunching, Victor tilted his head, "Waiting for what?" "A friend." "Oh." Silence reigned once more for quite a while. Thirty minutes or so went by before Victor broke the quiet by sighing, "I guess I should get going. I have a meeting with some director here." A slim brow was raised in his direction, "Really? You're joining our university? How old are you?" "Thirteen… I skipped a few grades." Victor's heart warmed at the huffing chuckle he received for his efforts. "I'm sure you did," abruptly, the laughter cut off and Soubi was looking at him with narrowed eyes again. That cold, analytical expression, "where is your Sacrifice, Victor?" "Sacrifice?" the boy asked, now completely puzzled. Soubi just nodded, "I thought so." "You thought what?" "He thought so that you don't have any idea what a Sacrifice is, or what a Fighter is." Both of them turned as an older teenager stepped out from behind a tree about five meters away, hands in his pockets and lazy smile warming his features. Liquid hazel eyes locked onto Victor's sky blue ones, burrowing into them as if attempting to read into his very mind. "I'm Seimei," the brunette smiled when he reached them, holding out a hand to Victor. The younger boy shook it awkwardly, relieved when the young man stepped back. The redhead noticed, curiously, that the older teen hadn't even glanced at Soubi, or even acknowledged him. "Victor Delaqua, was it? Pretty name. Pity you don't know your REAL name." "Real name?" Seimei plopped down where he stood, ignoring what must have been a freezing ground despite the sun. Powerful eyes held Victor's as Seimei leaned forward, "Let me tell you a little story, little Victor. Once upon a time, there was such a thing as Fighters and Sacrifices…" Victor never attended his appointment with the university director that day. He left the school grounds at near dusk, arms crossed tightly over his chest and head bowed as Seimei's and Soubi's words ran through his mind. Sacrifices, Fighters, Septimal Moon, murderers, spell battles… it was all too much to handle. Fictional. But then Soubi had taken the bandages from his neck, and showed him the name scored there. Seimei had convinced Victor to take off his own clothes, and the boy had, more frightened than he had been in a long time. But that fear turned to amazement when the simple snap of a camera revealed to him a name there, like a tattoo right along the small of his back, in English cursive. 'Shadowless' it said. Seimei and Soubi wouldn't tell him what it meant, but the way they exchanged a significant look, Victor knew it had to be something important. Just beyond the grasp of his imagination. He finally made it back to the apartment he was staying at, readying his obviously fake ID in case anyone decided to try to mess with him. Not that it mattered. Not many people gave a damn these days that a near-preteen was living alone in an apartment. Making it into his room just as the sun disappeared over the horizon, he collapsed on his bed wearily. The last thing that crossed his mind before he drifted into sleep was Seimei's parting words to him. "Victor. You do not understand what is going on here, and that is dangerous. I've told you all that I can, but there is one thing you absolutely must keep in mind..." Victor closed his eyes, barely noticing his breaths evening and consciousness slipping, "You must find your Sacrifice."


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