Unfortunately for my hobby, life has taken a turn for the worst (or is that better) as I am submerged in a ton of homework for school and have found myself with relatively little spare time and that which I do have seem to spend releasing stress in a different manner. Never fear however as I decided to grace my journal with a little teaser of what I have recently gotten the taste to write about. A Crossover between Naruto and Rosario + Vampire.

Please read and comment on what you think about it. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, and I mean greatly appreciated. I cannot improve without having my mistakes pointed at me after-all.

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of either Naruto or Rosario + Vampire.

"Know your place," drawled a silver haired female in an oddly fetching ensemble. Her haughty eyes, dyed the scarlet of freshly spilled blood, looked on with a measure of disgust, pity, and a good dose of mocking laughter. Whether this was from the nature of her foe's attacks, or the weakness and inability to back up the bold-if-revolting statement was anyone's guess.

The venom oozing off the highly temperamental, holier-than-thou female's words were nearly palpable, a surprising feat in and of itself considering his body's innate ability to dissect and reconstruct poisons into proteins and enzymes that satisfied his body's outrageous needs. And while they where easily tangible to the preternaturally-aware youth hidden by the obscurity of a withering pine some thirty meters way; doing a horrible job at being inconspicuous hid a plain-looking teenager, rooted at a respectable distance away from the fight (at the opposite side of the clearing) cowered a brown-haired teen; body and face nestled besides a short stone wall. Oddly besides the hysterics (which were quite entertaining), he seemed completely oblivious and even enamored with the antagonizing female .

The hidden child was just that, with a figure as unimposing as any could ever be. He stood, at best, a good head and a half shorter than the crimson eyed female.

He shook his tawny head, lamenting the brutality shown by the aforementioned fighter to the monstrous green-skinned mammoth of a man? Perhaps, he thought cutely, fiend was a better word to describe the towering form of the recently defeated male. The brute was a repulsive, standing a good four meters tall with sickly green-tinted skin and serrated knife-size canines.

It was ironic that the massive Goliath of a man was brought down with a single, if well executed, drop kick by an exotic silver-haired beauty less than half his size.

Some twenty meters north and forty-three meters west, on the outskirts of the impromptu battleground, flit a second figure. A phantom veil, woven from the shadows painted by a setting sun, hid his form. Every step was meticulously executed, precise and graceful, the gait not unlike the King of the Sahara plains. Unlike the more jovial youth hiding behind the dying tree, he stood a good half a head taller than the silver-haired, crimson-eyed female.

Behind the nether veil stood a well-proportioned teen with sinister vermillion eyes. Though similar in tint to the female's, that was all they shared. While hers brought forth childhood fears of things which go bump in the night, his were wrought from the blood of the sanguine fields, the pupil reminiscent of a once-great towering beast.

Within those eyes of loathing, the teen observed and analyzed her every movement. Every nuance was quickly gleamed from her bodily responses, even down to the subtle twitches of muscles and tissue. Of note was her disposition towards her right leg and left arm. It was odd to see that particular combination, something he filed away for later. Such could prove useful if ever drawn into combat with her.

Duality: A Tale of Harmony
A Naruto and Rosario + Vampire Crossover
By Demonkid (or Tenchuu17 of DeviatArt)

So it is said that if you know your enemies and know yourself, you can win a hundred battles without a single loss. If you only know yourself, but not your opponent, you may win or you may lose. If you know neither yourself nor your enemy, you will always endanger yourself. - Sun Tzu, Art of War.

Chapter One: Dichotomy

It was without a care in the world that he walked towards the victor of the seemingly one-sided scuffle between the silver haired girl and the towering green behemoth of a boy.

Yami, as he was prone to call himself, watched in fake interest as the haughty female noticed his grand entrance into the milieu. 'Such a pity,' he thought mockingly. It had only taken her a good minute-and-a-half to finally notice his presence. This was a full minute and twenty-nine seconds more than should have been required by any astute sensor. He wasn't exactly masking his entrance after all.

The difference he had noted long ago, between a good fighter and a great one, was not the level of skill or power that they wielded, nor the control they possessed over their respective abilities, but the wisdom and knowledge of understanding an adversary and planning accordingly.

With enough knowledge and preparations even the weakest of creatures could beat the strong.

Positioning was everything. But how do you position yourself?

The answer was simple he laughed, by observing the area around you, the opposition and your very own allies; it is then and only then when one was ready for battle.

Unfortunately, he had only been present for the finale of the fight, which he assumed had been interesting if exceedingly one-sided; he also noted the boy with dark brown hair hiding behind the masonry some ten meters from the battle-site holding what he thought was a pendant. Perhaps it was a necklace; it mattered little.

Fortunately, between the short duration of what he did see and what he observed during his walk towards her, he had come to a pretty accurate profile on her abilities; a fighter with superhuman, near Herculean strength and a higher than average speed powered by feminine rage.

'Nothing to be truly concerned about,' he mused with an internal grin.

Tired of waiting for her acknowledgment, Yami coughed, projecting the sound from multiple directions at once. 'Quite the intimidating parlor trick,' he himself thought; the first time he was besieged by that particular technique, he had been thoroughly shaken from the brief encounter with the man known as Demon of the Mist so many moons ago.

With a quick shake of her head at the figure's rather unique way of making his introduction, Moka found herself staring at a form hidden by what seemed to be shadows, or something of that nature, the very darkness itself seemed to writhe around him protectively. Despite herself, she found this interesting, she wasn't very sure of what type of monster had that particular ability. It was the first time she had ever heard of something like it, let alone witnessed with her very own eyes.

"Can I help you?" she asked condescendingly. No other monster was her equal, interesting or not.

"Why yes, you may," he chuckled, "rather simply I might add."

A pregnant pause, a shuffle of her feet and a particularly heavy tap of her feet were her only response. Taking that as the cue for him to begin, he stated languidly, "Why is it that those with strength find it amusing to torment the weak? No, let me rephrase the question to better fit this particular moment in time. Why is it those that have some semblance of strength find joy in tormenting those weaker than they?"

Moka's response was swift and brutal, a powerful kick aimed at his temple; nobody insinuated something so blasphemous about her, especially not some guy who hid behind black wisps who obviously knew nothing about her.

His only response was an awkward out-of-place sigh as he grabbed her outstretched leg as it came down and countered with a forceful jerk of his arm. The action was fast, completely subconscious on his part.

She found herself hurled towards the academy walls at an impressive speed. Her own training allowed her to easily reorient while in transit, landing gracefully some five meters from her rocky destination. Her smugness towards her own abilities vanished, as did her breath, following the heavy blow which completed her aborted journey.

In the absence of grace and aplomb, she smacked bodily into the walls of Yokai Academy, bouncing off the stones to land on her knees. It was times like this, rare though they were, in which she reveled in her birthright. Even as she stood, the abdominal bruises faded.

His attack may have been fast, but it lacked the necessary power to put her down. Sometimes, the vampiric constitution was a boon not even their weakness in water could overshadow.

"Not bad, not bad. Not to say that it was very good, but not bad."

Panting in exertion and slight discomfort, Moka couldn't help but frown and fume in anger. The little (maybe not so little, she later amended) snot was looking at her with easily discernible nonchalance. Was he really that confident in his abilities or was he simply, like all other males underestimating her because of her sex?

Thinking about what she had learned about the boy thus far from her brief encounter in combat with him; he was highly skilled in close quarter combat; capable of using his superior speed to bring himself within optimal distance, predict her actions and act accordingly. Ensuring this seemingly one-sided confrontation remain in his favor.

If she was to compare herself to him, she would have to admit that the boy was far faster than she was at this point in time. Impossibly fast actually better described his speed; the sheer adroit agility and neurotic responses in which he moved far exceeded anything she was familiar with. Fortunately, it seemed while the male was indeed strong, abnormal even when compared to other monsters in that facet of power, his level of strength was not equal to his level of speed. And for that, she was incredibly thankful. Otherwise, had his strength and speed paralleled the other; that singular instance in which his outstretched fist met her then vulnerable gut would have marked the moment of her defeat.

Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on what lied within), she was unable to see her opponents eye; with the inability to make eye contact she couldn't really say what type of monster or what his nature truly was. A monster's eye, similar to the phrase coined for humans by the famous playwright William Shakespeare, was the windows too their soul.

Somehow, that black miasma trailed and followed his every movement, effectively veiling his face and most of his body from prying eyes. Like a dark-tinted fog, even her eyes where incapable of seeing what lay within. Those ghastly wisps where undoubtedly unnatural in origin.

Perhaps the most interesting quality, at least to the hormonal teenage female, was the figure's physical composition. The boy was lean, not a fragile svelte, but a lean form sculpted from a sinewy musculature and toned, from her assumption, through ample cardiovascular exercise.

He was without a doubt a perfect male specimen, neither bulky nor scrawny, just the right proportion between the two to maximize physical appeal.

In term of strengths, he seemed to possess everything she did not and, to a lesser extent, everything she did as well. It was rather fetching and attractive, if a bit annoying and antagonizing, to someone like herself. As long as she couldn't land a hit, which she swore she would sometime sooner or later, she wasn't much more than an attractive punching bag.

It was quite the vexing train of thoughts, truth be told.

Speed, pure unadulterated speed seemed to be the one decisive variable in this particular clash; speed as one-dimensional as it was seemed to play the pivotal role in her current dilemma. He had speed, she did not. Plain and simple. Grudgingly she came to admit that. It would have been much easier to admit defeat when one used their species gained-weakness -water then admit defeat because of her own personal weakness.

Fortunately, she laughed, vampires had amazing stamina, enough she thought, to outlast the usurper and knock him down. 'All she needed,' she thought once more, 'was one good hit.'

As long as she kept him in the defensive, which he seemed to be more than happy to oblige with she noted, he shouldn't be capable of fully utilizing his strengths against her and without a doubt, like any creature prone to committing errors; errors, she more than eagerly and willingly would capitalize.

Ultimately his overconfidence would be the tool, the cornerstone in her underdog rise to victory.

With those thoughts at the forefront of her mind, she pushed herself to the balls of her feet and launched herself at the annoyance before her. Something about him literally pissed her off. Perhaps it was the way he was in such a bemused and languid stance, as if she was no threat…the nerve of the guy!

In a blink, merely a fraction of a second, she landed next to him and sent a series of punches, kicks and knee blows. Unfortunately, the mass of flesh she was hoping to hit was replaced by the tough, dried husk of a withering pine that stood some thirty meters away some seconds ago. How he did it exactly? She did not know.

"You seem distraught. Where you perhaps expecting to hit me with such poorly executed hits?"

"ARGH!" She cried; her plan and reason for attacking already forgotten, obscured by the silent rage which surged from being unable to shut him up. A second failed attempt brought a deepening frown, the pronounced curvature marring her otherwise exquisite and aristocratic features.

Yami could only laugh at her nearly tangible fumes. Was being outclassed really that new to the girl? "I am not impressed," he sighed dramatically, hands resting by his sides lazily.

'He isn't even taking me seriously!' she realized, eyes glowing in unrestrained fury.

If she was mad before, she was downright furious now. The misogynistic fool would pay for his transgression. No one mocked her…a vampire elite and got away with it.

"Let me show you how one truly attacks another with the intent to win." A wave of his hand and a claw-like hand sheared the air, the speed and pressure causing the ground to literally collapse in on itself, torn asunder by some great invisible force.

Raising her arms and crossing them in defense, she was caught wholly unprepared for the unbelievable scope of the attack. It hit her with all the force of a bus traveling at full speed as it lifted her bodily off the ground and into the cold hard ground some fair distance away..

It was at that moment that she witnessed the demonic aura around the figure. It was a malicious, bloodcurdling bloodlust, unparalleled to anything she had ever felt before. It wasn't the power that radiated that one second, but the sheer hatred, the loathing disregard for life in all its stages that truly frightened her.

He was truly a monster.

There seemed to be no humanity whatsoever in that one second where he lowered the curtains hiding his demonic presence

"For monsters, might equals right and the end justifies the means. Or am I wrong? You yourself proved this when you made that green boy submit by the use of force, so now I make you submit to mine." He laughed cruelly.

It was a hollow sound, a chilling tone which reverberated around the barren clearing and echoed ominously time and time again.

"You're wrong!" yelled out the boy who had been for the duration of this and most of the previous match hidden behind a large stone construct.

"And what do you know about power, you who hides behind another? You know nothing of the sort."

"I know that Moka is not that type of person."

"And how would you know this? Could you really stake your life on such a gamble? I have met her type before, so sure of their own superiority that they use anything as a stepping stone in their rush to whatever it is they want. Mankind is ruled by hatred, a cycle that only knows pain."

Moka could only watch in silent protest as her body refused to listen. The force of that blow, even after blocking and summoning a mass of demonic power, was enough to flabbergast her completely. This level of power…was surreal. He reminded her so much of him.

How she hated him. He was the cause of all her heartache, of all her pain. She would not let some riffraff do her in when she still had him to overthrow. Her pride as a vampire would not let her bow before man or monster. "What do you know of pain?" she coughed, flecks of blood flying as she did.

"I know enough. Heh, my entire existence, my entire childhood has been immersed in the dark. I know the world for what it truly is. Not through rose-tinted glasses, but through concrete facts based on a lifetime of suffering. Let me show you despair, show you what true pain feels like."

His hands glowed an ominous pitch black, the dark wisps coalescing around his outstretched hand in the most beastly of ways. If the previous attack had been painful…this would spell the end for her, Tsukune and anyone caught in the crossfire (which was anyone at that particular wing of the academy campus.)

Fortunately fate smiled on them it seemed, as a new presence made itself known. It was a boy, a child no older than ten, with beautiful golden hair and crystal blue eyes, garbed in an assortment of orange, white and red. Besides the interesting choice of clothing, something felt amiss about the child. Whereas the older figure exuded malice, despair and death, this boy exuded hope, comfort and life. Could such an antithetical pair be anything but fate? Somehow the boy, the angelic boy managed to stop him from using such a devastating attack.

Unfortunately, the child being caught unaware of the creation of a second attack, following the successful creation of the first failed to completely null the entirety of the devastating attack. Having only successfully impeded the right hand, the left's attack roared and blitzed forward. The attack's concussive force dug a trench, collapsing the ground beneath it and tearing everything within a five meter radius asunder as it flew intently at the pair's location.

"That's enough Yami," spoke the child, identifying the now visible, previously unknown trespasser. His crimson eyes were so similar to her own, and vermillion hair framed a lean, aristocratic face marked by larger than average incisors.

"Another vampire?" she gasped in great trepidation.

Tsukune, however, noticed something else. The two interlopers, besides their different hair and eye colors, looked similar enough to be brothers. Another thing of considerable note was the ease in which Yami's vicious attack was negated almost negligently.

The younger brother, if that's what he was, produced a series of small translucent orbs which shimmered in a highly distracting fashion. Tsukune could actually see the distortion caused by the massive aerial attack, as well as how it seemed to have been swallowed and dispersed by those orbs.

All which remained of that terrible technique was a gust of wind which ruffled Moka's skirt.

If the taller Yami was a monster, how much more so was his assumed sibling, the one who was able to do what even the released Moka could not?

"Hikari," the taller teen growled, clearly vexed at the intrusion.

The recently identified child smiled abashedly at the elder's un-amused stare, countered with a comically wide and innocent looking grin.

'That level of cuteness should be illegal,' Tsukune thought absentmindedly. 'How can he look so innocent after having just done that?'

Some monsters, he reasoned, were even more monstrous and frightening then those commonly haunting the dreams of kids. He had assumed, given the initial reaction Saizou (perhaps the most physically intimidating thing he ever had the unlucky chance of encountering) had over the fact that Moka was a true bloodied vampire, or super vampire as she later amended. They were atop of the pyramid; the apex predator across the entirety of the monstrous races.

Apparently, while the vampire was indeed a notable species propagating the monster kind, there existed within the shadow-world of the monster-aware society an even stronger, more ruthless species. Their brutality and cruelty was something which could only be compared to the archaic writings regarding demons, as for the short period they had roamed the land, brought untold levels of destruction and anarchy to a rapidly modernizing society.

Moka's thoughts were on a different tangent. Her focus was on Yami. Once visible, though oppressive, she could still read him. Given the disposition of her extended family, this was a tool for survival.

In that single instance, she witnessed something unreal. Unlike Tsukune, her eyes easily saw inside the technique, the way the very air was compressed, wrapped in dark gaseous streamers. Her ears could hear the shearing winds within the construct, even above the sound of churning earth as it sped towards them.

It was a frightening ability, one she had never seen before.

It brought one question to the forefront of her mind; what exactly was he?

Hope you enjoyed it. Please Read and Review if you want quicker updates. :)

Some explanations: Naruto's two "bodies/entities" are the result of a technique which will be explained later. Note that the entrance of Naruto was at the end of the one sided fight between Saizou and Moka and therefore does not know of the series of situations that lead to it.