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Pontoon
Lorelei Yeager
The Nazis had no warning
With the working of your hands
All rivers bend before you
Building proud, determined man
While the shots whizzed by
You built a crossing
Only later blown away
Yet you yourself
Won a war
Soldier, savior, and more
The scion of a mother
Blue Blood or b*****d child
You showed the world what a father could do
Becoming a granddaughters' idol
By work, you secured today
Your dreams, realized for tomorrow
If only you could see
What I have learned
Would you look down and smile?
The hospital said stroke
His the brain shutting
Still, nothing will replace the uniform man
Wearing his loopy, geeky smile
So when the heaven's cry for their soldier
Water falling from the sky
I'll watch them fold up a flag
And to your casket say
"I'm proud of you."
 Zune Christmas Shop Mule · Mon Jan 07, 2008 @ 12:16am · 0 Comments |
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Below is my latest Ronin Warriors fan fiction. Feel free to read and review...
biggrin biggrin biggrin
Disclaimer-I will never own any of the characters mentioned in this story. They belong to Sunrise, Ocean Group, and all other companies affiliated with the show. I am not making any money for the posting of this fan fiction, nor should I receive any money for such reason.
Proud
Isabel Night (Lorelei Yeager)
Pounding drums echoed throughout the haze-covered city, the timed strikes blending with the monotone chorus of chanted sutras that did little to appease the fickle spirits who controlled the weather. As if the spirits of the sky had turned their backs on the people, the black sun continued to hammer the land with its relentless heat. Saffron-robed monks who were not taking part in the chanting or drumming continued to pray for relief.
Outside the monastery walls, the rhythm flowed through the air, spreading hushed rumors to whoever stopped and listened. As the village women fanned themselves in time with the drums, they gossiped about the latest news. Their words, concerning the decline in the supply of rice, caused many homemakers to shake their heads, petition, and complain.
Inside the capital of the Nether Realm, the City of Desire, the drumming seemed timed to an almost clockwork pace. If there was a countdown to a bad harvest, then government ministers were trying to prepare for the worst by supplementing the food supply. At the head of this effort was a man with wavy white hair and a single good blue eye.
Kuroda Dais sat at his desk with several books stacked in front of him, sighing as he went over the order forms for a large shipment. Although he knew basic math, his training marked him as a warrior; not a merchant.
Normally one of the city administrators would be across the hall assisting him with the paperwork. However, the aide had fainted from the heat while taking inventory in an outdoor storeroom. After rushing him to the medical wing of the palace, one of the healers there assured Dais that his subordinate would be fine with some water and a few days of rest. Now, without help and doing a job he considered beneath him, the former Warlord of Illusion's patience had worn thin.
"Let me see," Dais mumbled to himself, his eyebrow twitching slightly. "The Northern Prefecture is willing to barter large quantities of rice if we agree to send them a year's supply of wheat."
After a few minutes of shuffling, Dais tossed the papers back onto his desk before carelessly shoving them aside. "Just perfect!" he fumed, ignoring the clutter in front of him. "Doesn't this stubborn daimyo realize that a lack of rice also means a lack of wheat? How do they expect us to send them food when we can't even grow our own?"
Having had enough, Dais grabbed the top book, slammed it shut, and threw it on the floor. When the book landed with a loud thud, the force of the impact scattered the already messy pile of forms even more.
Right now, Dais did not want to sign any document. In an attempt to calm down, the oldest of the three Dark Warlords stood up and walked out of the room. The clanking of his dark green sub armor could be heard throughout the castle as he strode down the hallway.
After wandering the main passages, Dais found himself on the third floor balcony. He had often come to this spot when he wasn't working or when he felt overwhelmed. Here he would stand alone, tune out the chanting, and take in the serene view of the golden lake, interconnecting canals, and the normally fragrant garden below.
Today, he could not.
Leaning on the railing and gripping the top bar hard enough to turn his knuckles white, Dais tried again to quiet his turbulent mind. Closing his eye, he forced his mind to focus on the sound of water lapping along the shoreline. When his second attempt at relieving his stress failed, he began to think of the city with its wooden houses, open-air shops, bustling aura, and residents who would stream into the castle gardens every spring to laugh and dance under the cherry trees.
This year's blossoms had already bloomed and fallen leaving behind a collage of wilted foliage. Many plants sported a mixture of green-brown leaves, while some of the summer flowers were coming into bud. Almost all of them had curled-up edges due to the lack of rain.
Autumn would end the three-month heat. Even in the chujun of August, Dais wanted the garden to start revealing its medley of warm hues. Yet, this drought had sapped the trees of their life. Unless the weather improved, everything would turn a parched brown.
Dais frowned at that thought. "I might as well—"
"Take a break?" a male voice interrupted. Its owner made his way towards the other man after stopping on the third floor hallway. "You're starting to worry the advisers."
"Sekhmet," Dais began, turning around to get a better view of his visitor, "what are you doing here?"
"One of the servants overheard you yelling and asked me to find out what was wrong."
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" Sekhmet pressed, hands on his hips. "He also claims to have heard something loud slam on the floor."
"That was one of the accounting books." Dais shrugged. "I probably shouldn't have thrown it, but the lists were making me angry."
"The inside of a book made you angry? Maybe you do need to step back and relax. You know how you get when you're around matters of money."
"Thank you for the concern."
Sekhmet did not like the cutting tone he was hearing. "What is your—"
"Nothing!" Dais snapped at the serpent-eyed man. "Everyone's depending on me to have enough food by harvest time! If I don't reach that goal, then we will starve!"
Sekhmet did not respond, but pursed his lips together before clenching his hands into fists. Underneath Dais's frustrated features was a scheming but brilliant mind that had won him many victories in battle. On the rare occasion a plan or idea refused to work the first time, Dais would spend many nights locked in his room, looking for a solution. If the problem wasn't quickly solved, or he was pulled away for another task, then the older man's patience would grow short.
"I know you're aggravated," Sekhmet answered, trying not to sound offended. "If I were heading the effort to import food, I would be too. But getting upset with me isn't going to help. Our people need strength, and when you agreed to do this job, you also agreed to put your temper aside."
"If you're so concerned about it, then you do it!" Dais yelled, not in the mood for a lecture.
Sekhmet's patience – already worn thin – snapped. "I will not! You chose this assignment, and now you're going to see it to the end!" Pausing before biting his lower lip, Sekhmet glared at the man beside him. If Dais wanted a duel of wills, then he would get to the point. "Are you a coward?"
"Is that a challenge?" Dais demanded in his quiet but deadly tone.
"Yes! A true samurai makes a promise and keeps it! If our roles were switched, you would say the same thing!"
Dais started to open his mouth but hesitated and closed it. Part of his rational mind, the one he had set aside until after taking the job, knew that Sekhmet was right. Even if he and Cale didn't hold him to this task, the city's residents would. "I'm sorry," Dais mumbled, ashamed that he had lost his composure. "I didn't mean to snap at you."
Sekhmet nodded, not wanting to dwell on the outburst. After a few seconds of awkward silence, a low hiss escaped. "So, if I may ask, what were you annoyed at?"
"The Northern Province is willing to barter rice if we send them a year's supply of wheat."
"How do they expect us to give them food if we can't grow it ourselves?"
"That's what I was thinking," Dais agreed, "yet they've refused to budge on the issue."
"I see. You know," Sekhmet continued, closing his eyes and shaking his head as if images were dancing along the edge of his vision. "If Talpa were still alive, he would have crushed—"
"Yes," Dais finished. "But there were four of us then, and we didn't have to worry about..."
There he lingered, his eye blinking rapidly. The previous year had been a time of great prosperity, but the mad desire for conquest had driven their demon lord and master, Talpa, to declare war on the human world.
At first, things had gone their way. Then their enemies, a brash group known as the Ronin Warriors, had decided to play dirty by kidnapping Anubis and bringing him to their side. Placing the blame on who kidnapped who became irrelevant as their Warlord of Cruelty had died trying to free Lady Kayura from Talpa's power.
"Do you think Anubis would be proud of us?" Dais asked, trying to push through the maze of memories.
Sekhmet averted his eyes. "You know I can't answer that."
"You can't? Or you don't want to?"
"Who's to say?" Sekhmet sighed as he ran an impatient hand through his green hair. "I've done things that I'm not proud of, but when we sided with the Ronin Warriors—"
"So you don't feel ashamed?"
For a moment neither spoke. "Sometimes," the younger man admitted. "To be honest, I try not to think about it. Feeling sorry for myself won't bring Anubis back."
Dais' mind agreed, but his heart was another matter.
"Look," Sekhmet pointed out, trying to keep the past from overshadowing the present. "Even if Anubis isn't here, I think he would approve of all the changes that have been made."
"He would?"
"Yes. We used to be self-centered, egotistical fools, and now we're worried about people we've never even met. A year ago, we wouldn't have bothered with such a thing. How else can you explain our actions?"
"So that means—"
"Anubis' dying wish came true."
Dais smiled. If that horrible day had been good for something, it would mean that their leader was at rest, successful in doing his duty. "I need to get back to work."
"Why don't you stay and talk?"
"I've still got that shipment to finalize."
Sekhmet nodded in approval. "Now you're doing your duty."
"Thanks." Dais grinned, tightly gripping the autumn warrior's shoulder before leading him off the veranda and back to the workroom.
---
Several miles outside the city, a ghostly figure stood in the middle of a dirt road looking up at the sky. His face and identity were kept hidden by a large straw hat, helping him blend in with those who worked the land. As long as no one saw him, he could go about his task.
Satisfied that no one was paying attention, the spirit pushed stray strands of his red-brown hair behind his ears, lifted his palms over his head, and whispered a special prayer. Above him dark clouds spread like an opening parasol.
A few feet away, a farmer working in his dried up rice field felt the first droplet splash on his tunic. Surprised by the moisture, the man straightened up and took off his hat. When he did, another drop landed on his face. As the rain started coming down in steady sheets, the overjoyed farmer left his work and ran back to his village. In his haste, he failed to see his blue-and-white clad benefactor walk in the opposite direction.
THE END
End Notes-Chujun is the second 10-day half of the month. It is taken from the Japanese calendar, which divides the month roughly into three 10-day periods. A huge thank you to all my Beta Readers; without your help, this story would have never left the ground.
Zune Christmas Shop Mule · Fri Sep 07, 2007 @ 12:42am · 1 Comments |
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World War Two was probably one of the most horrific wars the world had ever seen. The holocaust, the two atomic bombs, the mindless belief of mad men winning the hearts and minds of countries, and that's not counting the death toll by the Japanese Kamikaze Pilots.
Yet, even in such a dark hour, the powers above always give hope. Frail, but hard to kill, the heavenly beings, be they one God or several gods, gave humanity that hope. It was found in a medical ship called the U.S.S. Mercy.
No one knows how the ship came to be; it was first sighted at Pearl Harbor, helping survivors heal from their injuries, and deal with the grieving of comrades. Over time, the Mercy traveled through the Pacific Ocean, taking in wounded, curing them, and sending them back home. By 1945, the Mercy was well-known by men of lower military rank as a ship that housed both Japanese and American wounded. Translators, comforters, doctors, nurses, and security forces made up of both sides, served and lived out the ship's motto, Spes, which is Latin for hope.
The story takes place a few months before the dropping of the two atomic bombs. Mary Newman, a comforter, and Takamasa Goro, the port side's sick bay translator, overhear a plot by two commanding officers, one from the Japanese, and another from the American via two different radio transmissions, to find out the truth about the ship. Can the two of them save the Mercy? Or will the greatest hope of WWII be brought to light?
Information
There is a chain of command which governs the ship. Everyone reports to The Council, which is made up of two doctors, nurses, two comforters, two translators, and the Head of Security.
The council members, minus the Head of Security, are elected for a one-year term. They take office on January 1, and leave office December 31.
Head of Security is elected by all the security guards and is answerable to the council, the guards themselves, and to the body. They have a two-year term and take office the same time as the council members do.
There is also an independent judiciary body that looks at all cases of abuse of power. They have the power to remove an officer from their post if there is evidence of abuse of power. They serve until the war is over.
The ship has three standard flags; imperial Japanese flags, the 48 star American flag, and Red Cross flag. This is so the ships can travel in any water and not arouse suspicion.
The Head of Security is in charge of security on the ship. This means that he is in charge of braking up fights and keeping everyone up-to-date.
The hub of social activity is in the Mess Hall. There is no cook, as food appears automatically. Tables may also be moved for dances.
For everyone to be kept up-to-date, an intercom system, wired throughout the ship, is used.
Code words are used for staff to help each other; below are a few of them:
10-4 = Alright
10-6 = We are in a battle zone.
10-7 = We are bringing the injured on board, get into your positions
10-8 = All clear of a battle zone
10-10 = Fight and/or suicide attempt by patient(s)
Rules
Premade characters must be filled before we get any OCs
Obey all of Gaia's rules
No cybering
Keep this thread PG-13
Obey all the canon information.
Zune Christmas Shop Mule · Sun Jul 01, 2007 @ 02:59am · 0 Comments |
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First Original Short Story! |
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Just as the titles states... whee whee whee
Any comments and critiques are welcome!
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Warning-Numberz is written by me, and was looked over by various Beta Readers. Stealing my works and claiming it as your own will equal death. That is all.
Numberz
Lorelei Yeager (Isabel Night)
Six o'clock in the evening is a good time to be outdoors. With the sunset draping its red, orange, and yellow hues over the Lexington Park skyline, it is not hard for me to close my eyes and soak in the tranquility of the air. This setting is a perfect for my task, and as I hear the whizzing of cars pass the small highway known as Route 5, I also glance at Freedom Memorial Park. The road, peppered with one-story houses, woods, and a Navy base, decorates the horizon with alternating shades of black and gray. Blending in with those colors are synthetic orange and white lights, giving off tiny sparks that dance in mid-air, like fabricated fireflies. Such illumination throws shadows on the ground, giving the bus stop, Tulagi Place, an aura of the unknown. As the Great Mills Evening leaves for its first run, I layout tonight's plan.
Getting up from the black metal bench under the bus shelter, I pass by the local post office, Lexington Park Library, Papa Johns, and finally Burger King. While on my way, I look across the street at the combinations of false lights, stores, moving cars, and churches. Crowded areas unnerve me; I prefer large, open spaces to perform my tasks, and a city requires more energy for both the kill and the collection of a soul. It isn't that I'm uncomfortable manipulating my shape, but if I am not thorough in my changing, then the assignment becomes more difficult.
Coming back to the present, I pass the A & E Motel, only to hear several prostitutes call out to me. Some leave the neon orange brick walls behind and follow me, but I try to ignore them. Hearing the click of high heels come closer, I quicken my pace and start to murmur aloud; hoping that talking to myself will drive them away. Soon as I hear them verbally settle on how much they should charge, I get the hint that they will not leave me alone. Closing my eyes and taking a few unneeded breaths, I debate on whether I should have a bit of fun. Deciding, I turn towards the closest girl, medium-built with red hair, and let my eyes flash crimson. To my amusement, she catches the red light, and bites back a scream. Promptly realizing that I am a freak, the girl grabs her purse and hastens the others away.
Continuing on to St. Mary's Square, I push my tongue between my lips in slight distaste, catching a whiff of exhaust from a nearby broken down car. Passing the driver of the said vehicle, standing in the right turn lane screaming obscenities, I hold back the urge to smirk at the man's short temper.
While traffic rushes past me, and I pass Bowes Books, my mind starts to wonder. Do the people I've encountered go about their day-to-day lives unaware of the future? Are they secure in the knowledge that I will come for them at a time they do not choose?
Who am I? I go by many names. They include, but are not limited to, "The Grim Reaper," "The Angel of Death," and the most interesting title, "The God of Death." Yes, I was the one in Egypt who had the task of separating the souls of the firstborn, and such duties have been part of my job since the beginning of time.
Pushing a strand of black hair behind my ear, I begin to rub my forehead. Used more as a focusing gesture than with actual pain, I resume my walk. With my black eyes alert, I continue down the sidewalk, as this night has called me to sever the soul of a man of wit and humor. Such qualities are good by human standards, but of little importance to me.
When the walk light flashes, I cross the street and make my way towards the Mayfaire Apartments. The street, lined with car shops, liquor stores, and wooded areas, echoes the thumping of a radio bass turned up by one of the cars parked on Liberty Street. Outside the Street Trenz shop, I catch a glimpse of my 'business face' through the store window and flash my skeletal teeth. My attire consists of regular street clothes and the appearance of a human male. I guess you could say that my 'wardrobe' has changed over the centuries, and along with my 'makeover' is a small knife, concealed in my right pocket and hidden until needed.
Taking a right, I slip past McKay's, melting into the shadows left by the grocery store's parking lot lights. My disguise, along with the ashen illumination, gives me a waxy, almost chalk-like complexion. Nevertheless, as soon as I begin to drop my human shell, hoping to travel faster than in my human disguise, I reach the apartment's sidewalk. Knowing that my 'objective' lives on the third floor inside of the first complex, I fix my disguise, climb up the steps, walk to the front door, and knock. A man no older than thirty-eight opens the door and looks at me with a curious expression.
Apartment 306 should be the residence of Tom Cantor, and if my sources are correct, he is suffering from a weak heart. He has never seen me before so I expect him to be surprised. Instead, a tired smile graces features.
"Are you here to fix my leak?" Tom asks, shifting his eyes towards my right hand, and probably looking for my tools. Giving me the edge that I need, I avoid his question and peer into the apartment. Clean and well ordered, the only thing that hints to my arrival are the various medicines lying across the dining room table.
"Are you here to fix my leak?" He asks again, brushing some of his premature brown and silver streaked hair away from his face.
"Yes," I lie, needing an excuse to get inside his home. "You called a member of staff to come and fix your kitchen faucet yesterday, so I was sent to do the job."
Tom looks at me again; I cannot read his mind, but I hope that the lie will get me inside. After a few seconds, he steps back and allows me in. After I cross the entryway, Tom closes the door and looks at me with his dull blue eyes. "You weren't sent by the office were you?"
"That's correct," I smile, turning to face my host. "Do you know who I am?"
"No." Tom sighs. For the first time, I notice lines of weariness and dark circles around his eyes. Is he tired from taking all his medications? "However, few people come to visit me. So either you're part of the staff, here to rob me, or ready to take me home."
I nod, but say nothing.
"Would you like to sit down before we go?" Tom asks, changing the subject as he makes his way towards the center cushion of a white sofa.
I accept the offer, taking a seat on a black-lacquered rocking chair. We go through a few minutes of silence as I quietly edge my right hand towards the hidden dagger. Every individual wants a quick and painless death, but when the actual time comes, many show fear, not relief.
"Would you like something to eat?" Tom offers, startling me with unusual hospitality.
"No thank you," I reply. "If you want something to eat or drink, then by all means go ahead. I have already had dinner."
Tom nods at my lie, as well as my second attempt at civility and gets up from the sofa. Walking past me and into the small kitchen, I hear the freezer door open as he removes something from within. The hum of the microwave soon reaches into the living room, while the smell of a beef and cheese 'wrap' wafts through the air. While he's waiting for his food, I catch him murmuring something. I hear something along the lines of, "I can't wait to see you again." Whom is he speaking of?
As he continues to wait for the microwave, I stand and make my way back towards the counter. Passing by the gold-framed picture of Tom in his army uniform, one with him and his parents, and Tom with another man I vaguely recognize, my eyes come to rest on the pill bottles lying unevenly on the table mat for the second time. I shake my head in disappointment, unable to understand why these creatures are determined to prolong their lives by unnatural means.
Lost in my thoughts, I fail to notice Tom walking in on me inspecting his prescriptions. "They don't do anything," he began heavily, jarring my mind back into the room. "You know just as well as I do that they only delay the inevitable."
"All mortal medicines do that in one way or another," I answer, trying to straighten my posture. I did not come here to be this man's friend. I came to do my task.
We both end up back in the living room sitting in the same spots we were in before. As I watch Tom eat his food, I quickly learn that he doesn't say much when his mouth is full. I say nothing in return, and after he finishes his meal, he puts his plate and plastic silverware into the garbage can. Walking back into the room, he looks at me again and asks, "Are you ready?"
I furrow my eyebrow at his question. He seems to be in a hurry to accompany me, but is that – wrong? "Are you in a rush to die?"
"Not really, though I do understand why you're here."
"Does my reason for coming make you uncomfortable?"
"No. I guess – well – it's about time that I stopped fighting. My doctor told me that I didn't have long to live, but I wanted to prove him wrong. At first, I didn't mind, but the cocktail of drugs I have to take several times a day disheartens me. I once had a fighting spirit, but now – I'm hoping that death will bring someone close to me."
"Is that why you don't fight?" I ask, noticing more lines of worry around his eyes and forehead. "Others would scream, struggle, and cause a scene, but you haven't."
Tom sighs, again running his fingers through his hair while shaking his head. Again, he looks at the picture of the other man.
"It is natural to want peace," I agree. "However, it is a solitary journey, and nothing can be taken with you. Are you ready to face that road?
"Yes."
Getting up from the rocking chair, I successfully draw my weapon, and go straight for the target area. In what seems like slow motion, my blade pierces the center of his heart. There is no blood, but Tom doesn't flinch. He smiles as he falls to the floor, and the serene expression, as well as his willingness to die, causes a shiver to run down my back. I am not cold, yet my hands are shaking. It must be a delayed reaction, though I have not left any physical evidence behind. As his body continues to shut down, jerking with involuntary muscle spasms, I take Tom's hand, close my eyes, and speak to him as if he were still alive. "That was brave of you. Some would have backed down from the inevitable, yet your courage has impressed me. I cannot believe—"
"That I was ready to go," a voice interrupts. I turn around to see Tom, a now transparent ghost with a human shape, standing by the body with a smile on his face. "I told you that I wanted peace."
"Really?" I ask, a bit curious.
"Yes. Besides, the way I see it, either I face the inevitable and hope to see Paul. Or fight and cause a scene only to still end up dead."
"Paul? You mean the man in that picture? Was he the one you were talking about in the kitchen?"
"Yes," Tom confirmed. "Paul Windson was my best friend in Desert Storm. If he hadn't died for me on that reconnaissance mission that turned into an ambush, then maybe I wouldn't be as calm as I am now."
"So you see death as a way to reunite with him?" I inquire.
"Yes."
I say nothing. Over the centuries, humanity has realized that my arrival is inevitable. While that is unchangeable, some cultures honor my coming with great festivals, while others cling to the hope that friends and family who have gone before them will welcome them home. "Tom, are you ready to go?"
"Yes." The spirit answers again.
Turning back to the corpse, I realize that the body tells more of a murder than a heart attack. Asking him to wait, I carry the body to the couch, wave my hand over the wounds to close them, and place a pillow behind the shell's head. After making Tom's dead body look as if he fell asleep, I walk towards the phone, and dial the emergency dispatcher. "Hello, 911; what is your emergency?"
"Yes, I'm at the Mayfaire Apartments, apartment 306 behind the McKay's Grocery Store on Great Mills Road. There is an unresponsive person on the couch, and I need an ambulance to come as quickly as possible."
After dealing with the operator, I pick up my blade and make a diagonal slash through the air. A sound similar to sea waves crashing rushes past my ears as I brace myself for the hurricane force winds that spiral through the vacuumed teleportation vortex. Watching the swirling colors of purple and black dance before my eyes, I steady myself from the gusty winds, and prepare to make the jump. With Tom standing next to me, I grab his wrist and we fly through the portal. The sensation of going through the tunnel is hard to describe, but if I had a stomach, then it would be hollow.
Halfway through the fall, I slash my blade again. Cutting another rift, we land in a large field where thick white mist rolls across the golden sky. Mingling with the faint scent of wildflowers dotting the green and gold grass, voices are laughing in the distance. "Welcome home Tom," I beam.
"Welcome home," another man calls out. As we turn to the owner of the voice, a man with dark brown hair emerges from the mist. His green eyes scan over us, but when the both of us see the complete figure, Tom breaks into a run. Almost crashing into one another, Tom and Paul grip each other tightly, embracing like brothers. While they swap stories on what happened after the war, I step back and prepare for my next task. After all, there is no rest in my line of work.
THE END
End Notes-A huge thanks goes out to all my editors and Beta Readers.
Zune Christmas Shop Mule · Mon Jun 11, 2007 @ 09:05am · 1 Comments |
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I have a new Ronin Warriors fan fiction I'd like to share. Hope you all enjoy it...
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Disclaimer-I will never own Kayura, Dais, or Anubis. They belong to Sunrise, Nagoya Television, Graz Entertainment, and Ocean Group. I am making no money from the posting of this fan fiction, nor should I receive any money for such reasons.
Be Without You
Isabel Night (Lorelei Yeager)
'Tonight is the night,' thought a white haired, twenty-one year old man dressed in a navy blue and white koi Yukata. 'It's almost midnight, and Anubis should be here soon. I can't wait to see the look on his face when he notices how we've decorated the castle.'
Taking in the sight of the partygoers, Kuroda Dais sighed while ignoring the sounds of Biwas, drums, and other instruments that permeated the air. Absently running his fingers through his hair, he viewed a large green island carved out by the artificial lake surrounding the castle, and flowing under the wooden timbers that made up the balcony he stood on.
Watching the revelers on that same island light fires, buy food, dance, and listen to music, a mixture of excitement and worry bubbled up within the man, bringing a heavy smile to his face. He came to this golden sky world, the Nether Realm, filled with dreams of power, wealth, and immortality. Though he had fought many battles in his younger years, peace had come to the once oppressed City of Desire, allowing the luxury of rare, sentimental moments.
Tonight's O-Bon festivities were one of them. While the dead were voyaging to the world of the living, the four inhabitants of Talpa's Imperial place were busy preparing food, lighting lanterns, cleaning rooms, and getting ready for the night's crowning moment. Such activities had forced Dais to wake up early that morning, but as the next two days were part of a joyous three-day festival, he did not mind.
Looking at the diamond-faceted stars, Dais realized that dawn would come soon, leaving little time to reflect on his past. After all, much had changed since the last Festival of the Dead, when his former master, the emperor Talpa, formally declared war on the Mortal World. He had ruled over the city with an iron fist, building his empire on blood, torture, death, and evil. In his mad desire to control everything under the sky, the demon ordered his forces to attack, knowing that most humans were ill prepared for the soulless army. However, five children, the Ronin Warriors, were able to defeat Talpa and save their world. Like all wars, victory came at a price and today would mark the one-year anniversary of that blood debt.
'Instead of thinking about the war,' Dais shook his head, privately scolded himself, 'I should go over my checklist and see what still needs to be done.'
'Let me see, Sekhmet should be lighting the festival lanterns and placing them in the garden. Cale and Kayura might still be in the kitchen, trying to figure out Anubis’s favorite foods, and I'm finished cleaning the dining area and Anubis’s old room. Maybe I should ask Cale if he needs any—'
"There you are." A black haired female walked in, speaking to him in an admonishing tone as she made her way towards him. "Why aren't you doing your chores?"
"I'm done cleaning, Kayura." Dais sighed, slightly annoyed at the disruption that took him from his list. "Do you or Cale need any help in the kitchen?"
"No." Kayura smiled, stopping beside him. "We have it under control."
"Good. Last time I was down there, you were arguing with him about how to prepare rice."
"We got that issue cleared away; though, I did catch Sekhmet trying to sneak off with one of the dancers."
"You mean the ones outside right now?"
"Yes. You should see how he dances," Kayura giggled. "He almost stumbled into the person in front of him."
"It's probably a folk dance from the Kyushu province." Dais shrugged in a distracted manner. "I'm not surprised that Sekhmet wants to be a part of it. If I knew steps, I would join in, too."
"You would?"
"Kayura, don't be silly, I enjoy Bon dances, especially at this time of—"
"Let's go back inside," Kayura interrupted, suddenly realizing that they had not set the table. "We've still got some more work to do before we can welcome Anubis back."
"I know, but can't it wait?"
"Sorry, he'll be here soon, and I want everything to be perfect."
Without thinking, Kayura grabbed Dais's right hand so she could lead him to the hallway that connected to the main dining room. "Come on," she urged, "I think it would be best if we—"
"Do you think it's worth it?" Dais blurted out. Kayura stopped and let go of his hand.
"What do you mean?" Kayura asked, scrunching up her nose. "You seemed fine a few minutes ago, what's with the sudden change in emotions? If this is about the festival, then I have no—"
"I mean." Dais sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Before you joined me, I was able to push down the fact that Anubis wouldn't be staying with us for good. Compared to the memories I rekindled while I was cleaning his room, I honestly don't know if I can face him. If I were to go back inside, especially into his room, those recollections will wash over me, and I'll remember that day. It's just that...well...part of me happy at the fact he's coming for a visit, but the other part is still ashamed."
"Dais," Kayura sighed as gentle breeze blew through their hair. "I understand what you're saying, but the point of O-Bon is to remember the dead and cherish the memories you have with them. Besides, you know just as well as I do that there is no way to bring the dead—"
"—back to life. I know that Kayura, but sometimes I feel like..." a chill spiked between his shoulder blades. "Every good memory I make slips through my grasp."
"Dais stop; you're not to blame for—"
"Really," Dais welled up, clenching his fist. "Because one minute, I'm laughing and joking with Anubis, and then the next, we're enemies. After that, he goes off to find a new purpose, makes new friends, and only comes back to the Nether Realm to die for us. If it's not my fault, then why do people I care about die and leave me to pick up the pieces they leave behind?"
"Dais," Kayura consoled, "you're overreacting; Talpa and Badamon are to blame for Anubis's death, not you."
"I sat helplessly in that tower while the power from my armor was drained—"
"Dais!" Kayura snapped, gripping his left arm. "It's not your fault! They killed him! Our bodies were the tools used to—"
"Doesn't that upset you?"
"Sometimes." Kayura admitted, squeezing Dais in a failed attempt to stop the flow of memories. Dais began to grimace, snatching her wrists and digging in his fingers.
"What do you mean by sometimes?" He pressed.
"Sometimes I think that if I had been strong enough to resist Badamon's possession, than maybe Anubis would still be alive." Kayura shuddered, remembering the oily, skin numbing impression that blanketed her senses when the Nether Spirit took over her body. "I now know that even if I wasn't weak, it was time for him to leave. When that happens, I try to remember that nothing lasts forever. People enter our lives and then they leave. We make friends, say goodbye to them, and move on to make new friends. Humans live, die, and return to the soil, which cultivates the land so that others may live. I guess you could say that everything has a reason."
"I know, but it all seems...temporary."
"Yes, it does." She agreed, still upset about that day. "However, I've also learned that people never truly die, because of the memories they leave behind in loved ones' hearts."
It was there that Kayura stopped and bit her lower lip in frustration. After a few seconds, she straightened up and tried to loosen Dais's grasp. "Look, what I'm trying to say is that I might not know much about Anubis's relationship with the three of you, but the bond you four built didn't grow overnight. Moreover, just because I came into your lives after Anubis defected from Talpa, doesn't take away the time, patience, and other circumstances that made you what you are today. Yes, it was for a short amount of time, but if you stop and think about it, he never left any of us."
"Really," Dais huffed, increasing pressure on Kayura's wrists while creasing his eyebrows. "How do you know that?"
"Dais...let go of me...you're—"
"I'll let go when you answer my question about the worth of this festival!"
Yanking free, frustration began to define Kayura's features. "The worth you're asking for comes from speaking a departed person's name. Doing that simple act brings them back to life. Many cultures I've read about in the castle library hold this belief, and even now, we are doing the same."
"You're not making any sense!" Dais finally yelled. "How can someone who has died still live?"
At that moment, Kayura lost control. "Stop! If you want your answer, then listen to me! Anubis lives in us because we're waiting for him, prepared a seat of honor for him, and continue to speak his name! I know we have many unresolved issues with our pasts, but now we—"
Trying to regain her composure, Kayura closed her eyes and attempted to quiet down. After a few seconds, she won back control, and began to speak in a firm, even tone. "We have the chance to set things right. Many people would love the opportunity we're getting, and unless we take full advantage of it, it will go to waste. As I've said before, nothing lasts forever; even we weren't supposed to live as long as we have. However, we're standing here, talking, creating more memories, and most importantly, waiting to make amends. If we can take advantage of the next two days, then perhaps this will lead an understanding that we can pass on to the next generation. Hopefully, others will learn about our mistakes...and make sure they never happen again."
"Doesn't that sound hypocritical?" Dais asked quietly, subdued by the louder voice.
"Probably, but humans are contradictory creatures. Everyone wants things to be different, but many are trapped within their own confines, refusing to seek change."
"So in other words, nothing lasts forever, but for what little time we have, including this festival, we should take advantage of it?"
"Exactly," Kayura nodded, gently brushing a strand of hair that fell in front of his eye patch. "In fact, when Anubis comes back for his visit, you can tell him everything on your mind. Likewise, when he leaves, you'll have an opportunity to close that door and share what you've made."
"Do you really believe that?" Dais exhaled.
"Of course I do. Now, how about we go downstairs and get ready?"
With that, Kayura took Dais's left arm and pulled the older man towards the dining area, hoping to apologize for raising her voice. After they had left, a ghostly figure with red-brown hair materialized, smiled, and produced a samurai doll. As the dead weren't limited to human time and space, Anubis had arrived early and heard the conversation word-for-word. Pleased with what had happened, he floated down the hallway, setting the figure on the center of his altar.
THE END
End Notes-I would like to thank all my Beta Readers for looking over this story. Without you, this story would have never left the ground.
This piece was edited by Bobby dRevolution's Editing, Citation, and Credibility Source..
Zune Christmas Shop Mule · Wed Apr 25, 2007 @ 12:38am · 0 Comments |
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I have new story Ronin Warriors/Yoroiden Samurai Troopers fan ficion that I hope you will enjoy!
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Disclaimer-I will never own the three Dark Warlords, Anubis, Kayura, or any characters from the series Ronin Warriors/Yoroiden Samurai Troopers. All rights go to Sunrise, Nagoya Television, Graz Entertainment, and Ocean Group. The title of this story is taken from the song White Wheeled Limousine, sung by Bruce Hornsby, and taken from his CD Hot House. Hot House was produced by Bruce Hornsby and published by Basically Zappo Music/Warner-Chappell Music. All rights to the CD and song belong to them.
White Wheeled Limousine
Isabel Night aka Lorelei Yeager
Today was supposed to be a day for relaxation. The lapping of water inside an artificial lake mixed in with the faint scent of Weeping Higan Cherry Trees confined to a well-tended garden should have made the blending of scent and sound give off a peaceful, lazy aura. Instead, impatience graced the features of a four hundred fifty-six year old male, Sasaki Cale, who was currently standing on a balcony over the castle's garden, running his fingers through his wild blue hair.
Dais, Kayura and Sekhmet, his fellows in the Nether Realm, were supposed to have met him an hour ago to prepare for the annual Cherry Blossom viewing. The original plan was for the three of them to go to the kitchen and help the cook make a picnic lunch for the party. Because they were not on time, he was stuck waiting for them. The three of them should have come back from the Mortal Realm after visiting a friend in Kyoto, and traveling shouldn't have been an issue. The only way to go between the worlds was to summon a red gate that connected the castle to the human world, and as long as the system wasn't misused, people and demons could travel between both without any physical harm.
Absentmindedly, Cale closed his eyes and traced the inverted cross-shaped scar over his left eye. Given to him by his last human master for failing to commit suicide after an unsuccessful battle, the scar was a reminder of his past, and a personal vendetta—until his armor's sword sliced the b*****d in half. Now used as an unconscious way to remember the forgotten, Cale's mind began to drift back to the time he had first joined the Dynasty, the collective name for Talpa's empire.
Cale was twenty years old when he had joined the empire. Moreover, while his eyes saw four hundred years of fleeting human history, he physically looked like the same man who had first swore loyalty to his demon master.
He had once been part of a group called the four Dark Warlords. His brothers, Dais, the white-haired Warlord of Illusion, Sekhmet, the green-haired Warlord of Venom and Anubis, the red-haired Warlord of Cruelty, joined with him as part of the most powerful force in the Nether Realm—and earning a reputation by becoming what many considered Talpa's greatest commanders. For four centuries they appeared to be unbreakable, until five children, the Ronin Warriors, with the help of their guardian monk, The Ancient One, smashed that façade to pieces.
Cale idly rubbed the bridge of his nose in an attempt to bring his mind out of the past and into the present. Today was the nineteenth anniversary of Talpa's defeat, and sometimes he wondered about how things had changed. The Ronin Warriors were no longer children but in their early thirties, settled down, married, and with children. From what Kayura had reported, the girl Mia was also married and had a family of her own. The boy-child, Yuli, would probably be in his twenties, working, and starting to look for a wife. Though Cale wished everyone well, he still had a bit of trouble trying to make peace with the fact that he had been played like a—
"Sorry we're late!" Kayura called out, successfully jarring Cale out of his thoughts as she made her way towards the balcony he was standing on with Dais and Sekhmet. "The visit took longer than we expected. Hachiro wanted us to help him prepare some dried sweets for the Cherry Blossom viewing."
Katsumori Hachiro was the first mortal friend Dais had made in over four hundred years. The two had met at an O-Bon festival dance four years ago, held in Maruyama Koen Park. As it was Dais' first festival outside the Nether Realm, it came as a huge surprise that he would form a lasting friendship. The original reasoning behind the trip was to go to Kyoto, Anubis' ancestral home, and honor the family of the man who saved their lives. Much had passed since then, and even now, Cale still had lingering bouts of jealousy. Perhaps some part of him was still possessive, wanting to keep Dais, Sekhmet, and Kayura locked up in the castle, safe from the human world by making sure other potential friends had an "accident" via a sword through the heart.
"Really," Cale answered, masking a frown with pleasant smirk on his face. "What's so nice about making sweets that the three of you would overstay your visit and forget about our festival plans?"
"Cale," Dais sighed, rubbing his forehead. "We didn't mean to overstay; besides, Hachiro gave us something nice in return."
Dais produced an envelope and handed it to Cale, who quickly ripped open the top, and pulled out four stiff, white tickets. The writing was a bit faded and smudged, but Cale could tell that the tickets were still in fair condition.
"In fact," Dais spoke up again, noticing the puzzled look on Cale's face, "These tickets are an invitation to the Heian Jingu Shrine's Cherry Blossom party."
Cale blinked; the Heian Jingu Shrine, especially the South Garden, was almost as old as Kyoto itself. Dedicated to Emperor Kammu and Emperor Komei, the temple had a major dedication ceremony a year before the war with America. In the Heian Era, court nobles had their Cherry Blossom parties in the South Garden while composing springtime poems. To secure an invitation must have been a stroke of good luck, even though tea ceremonies could also take place in the North Garden.
"Wait, how did Hachiro get us into a party at the Heian Jingu Shrine?"
"He didn't tell us," Dais shrugged, waiting for Cale's response to the sudden change of plans. "He probably got them as a thank you gift for being the guest of honor at a tea ceremony."
"And all of us are going?"
"That's the idea,” Kayura volunteered.
"What about our personal plans?" Cale asked, clenching his fist behind his back in an attempt not to show how upset he was. "We were going to have a private celebration in the garden."
"I think it would be better if we celebrate the viewing in the Mortal World," Kayura replied, absently toying with a strand of black hair. "We've been in this world for almost four hundred years, with very little to no human contact, and this outing might be a good experience for us. Not only as a way to reclaim a portion of our humanity, but we could also see how much the world has changed."
"Good for us?"
"I think it would be good idea if we got reacquainted—"
"I'm not going," Cale huffed at Kayura, his voice sounding more disappointed than angry.
"What do you mean you're not going?" Dais questioned, raising an eyebrow.
"I mean I'm not going to a viewing party in the mortal world when we can have one here."
"Cale, this isn't about location." Sekhmet sighed, shaking his head. "Kayura honestly believes that this party would allow us to meet new people and get out of the castle—"
"Why should we celebrate the festivities in the human world when we can do the same thing here?" Cale pointed out, becoming more irritated. "What's more, we'll be closer to Anubis—"
"Cale, it's been almost twenty years!" Sekhmet snapped.
"I don't care!" Cale snapped back, his patience now gone. "We've always had viewing parties in the castle gardens, and I'm not going to one in the human world just because you three believe it's good for me!"
"Cale, calm down; there's nothing—"
"I said no!"
"Enough!" Dais yelled, raising his voice in an attempt to keep the shouting down. "Cale, if you don't want to go, then don't go. Besides, it's not like we're betraying—"
"We're not betraying Anubis," Sekhmet finished, firmly biting his lower lip in an attempt to control his temper. "I'm not a mind reader, but I think that this is something he would have liked. Plus, it's not like we're trying to dodge our way out of spending time with him; we just want to try something different."
"Different?" Cale inquired, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm saying that an opportunity like this might be something he would have wanted." Sekhmet continued, laying out his reasons. "Yes, it is much easier to have the festival here, but think about the bigger picture. We've been stuck in this world and have no experience dealing with a majority of human beings. On the other hand, I've never been through much of Kyoto, except for my visits with Hachiro, so maybe we can also visit other temples, try local delicacies, and even walk The Philosopher's Way."
"But we've lived here for a long time," Cale point out. "We have a comfortable home, a terrain we're familiar with, and we're close to Anubis's grave. Why should any of that change?"
"Again, because I feel that Anubis would want us to change," Sekhmet countered. "It's been almost twenty years since we buried him, and we're still living in this world, moping around, clinging to our past, feeling sorry for ourselves, and trying to push aside the fact that we've been given a second chance. He didn't die for us so that we would be stuck in this world forever; he would want us to start over, live our lives again, and make new friends. If that means going to the Mortal Realm for a party, then that's what I'll—"
"I'm not trying to get out of going to anything," Cale objected, shaking his head. "But the three of us made the choice to leave the mortal world behind. If we leave the Nether Realm for good, then we're saying that our previous choices mean nothing."
"True," Kayura reminded him, speaking in an even tone. "I, on the other hand, didn't have a choice when it came to joining the Dynasty. Thanks to Anubis's sacrifice and the Ancient's staff, I can remember my past. When I was eight years old, I lost my family to Talpa's raid on my clan. Soldiers took me to the castle, Talpa wiped my memories clean, and no matter how much I wish or make offerings to the Kami, I'll never get my mother and father back. Yes, I'm from the past, but I don't want that to stop me from living life and having the freedom Anubis wanted all of us to have. Even though I don't remember much about my parents, I feel that they wouldn't have wanted this too. I'm going to this party with Dais and Sekhmet, and if you want to stay here and sulk then—"
"Fine," Cale finished, dramatically throwing his arms up in the air when he realized that he wasn't going to talk anyone out of going to Kyoto. "I'll come to the viewing party! That doesn't mean I'll enjoy it!"
Kayura closed her eyes and uttered a small sigh. She knew that Cale was more stubborn than Dais or Sekhmet, but at least she had scored some points with him coming to the festival. 'He'll have a good time,' she thought, smiling inwardly as Cale left the balcony in a foul mood. 'In fact, he'll probably have a better time than the rest of us and not admit to it.'
THE END
End Notes-I would like to thank all my Beta Readers for helping me put together this story. I would also like thank all of those who have read and reviewed as well.
Zune Christmas Shop Mule · Thu Mar 22, 2007 @ 07:02am · 0 Comments |
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Yes, that means that I've revamped an older fan fiction. You're free to take a look at it, and comments are always loved... 3nodding 3nodding 3nodding
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Disclaimer-I will never own Cale and/or Anubis. Sunrise, Nagoya TV, and Sony Music Entertainment copyright all these characters.
Warning-This story has a rating of T, also known as PG-13, because this story mentions premeditated violence and other unpleasant things. If you do not want to read something like this, then please hit the back button. My Boxers will bite flamers who ignore this warning.
Tell
Isabel Night aka Lorelei Yeager
In the world of the living, according Japanese mythology, two different spheres exist alongside each other. Most humans only know of the human domain, known in myths as the Mortal Realm. Yet, how many people know of its veiled twin, the demon world, known through the old stories as the Nether Realm? How many humans have seen the capital city of the Nether Realm, the City of Desire, and gained an audience with the demon emperor Talpa and his four closest generals, the four Dark Warlords? If one were able to get close enough to the lord and his four generals, then would he or she recognize a midnight shrouded room, occupied by a man with tan skin, untamed dark blue hair, and a cross-shaped scar that unevenly adorned his left eye sitting on a black meditating pillow?
Would guests also see this man, wearing a silk kimono stitched in red, navy blue, and gold thread, inside a concealed bedchamber, ignoring the sturdy midnight-colored wooden wall frames held together by thin sheets of white rice paper? Would the viewer care if someone looked at the whole room from the left side of the wall, giving the chamber a square-shaped appearance?
To the front of the room, if one were to continue to analyze the setting, a sliding paper door assembled from a thicker type of wood, also painted black, opened to a narrow hallway, which would constrict towards a corridor of maze-like hallways and ultimately lead to the main part of the castle. The back wall, also made of black-colored wood, viewed two scrolls. One displayed the occupant's calligraphy skills, while the other exhibited a mass-produced copy of an Edo Period kabuki theater. Resting on the floor, if one were barefoot, were expensive tan and black-bordered goza mats, hiding soft tatami mats underneath.
Furniture in the room consisted of a soft futon with black sheets and a red comforter, a desk, chair, dresser, sword stand, several tall candleholders, and an artificial flower arrangement. It was a simple section of the Dynasty, the collective name for Talpa's empire, which, from a traditional perspective, screamed of affluence and comfort.
Yet, wealth, luxury, and power were not on the mind of the blue-haired occupant. An emotionally torn immortal was only one part of the layer, for he was Cale, the four hundred fifty-five year old Warlord of Corruption. This man, who fought for the illustrious Lord Talpa, and battled side-by-side with his three brethren, Dais, Warlord of Illusion, Sekhmet, Warlord of Venom, and Anubis, Warlord of Cruelty. Together, the gods had blessed them with wealth, power, and friendship but lately, that bond seemed to be collapsing. Moreover, as things started to deteriorate, it looked like there was nothing he could do except loose ground, repeatedly, to those five cancerous irritants, the Ronin Warriors. His apparent defeat at the hands of one of those annoyances, Cye of the Torrent, however, would not stop him from his daily meditation exercises.
He had almost arranged Torrent's one-way meeting with the Judge of Hell until Anubis, who had been brainwashed into following the ways of the contemptible monk, threw that blasted staff between the two of them, crashed into his dark abode with Hardrock and Wildfire, and turned the tide of the battle against him. It had been a near miss but after he had escaped from those three brats and his closest friend, Cale made his way back to his sleeping compartment where he grabbed his meditating pillow in sheer frustration, sat down, and began to deliberate on his stolen victory. It appeared that what Kayura had reported was true, and now that the little Ogre had decided to come back to Nether Realm, the Warlord of Corruption felt that now would be a perfect opportunity for the new monk to have a head-on collision with his past.
Provided through a "personal meeting" with his former comrades, Cale believed he could bring his former ally back to Talpa's Empire. Nevertheless, the man did not know if he should hunt his red-haired friend and bring him back to the Dynasty via force, or if Anubis should come back willingly. On the other hand, playing a sadistic game might brighten up his mood, and with what he had just gone through, the mismatched spraying of blood from a severed head looked tempting.
For some unknown reason, Cale hesitated in outright kidnapping the former Warlord of Cruelty. He did not know why he wanted his ex-leader's consent, but the hunter knew that Anubis would never forgive him if he dragged "innocent" people into this. Honor had been a major part of Anubis' life, and even now, his friend's honor would never allow those whelps to interfere.
Cale's bloodstream ran thick with rage at the mention of the Ronin Warriors. With the help of that blasted monk, The Ancient One, those five children had kidnapped and manipulated Anubis, forcing him to believe that Master Talpa was playing them like a puppeteer. It soon became clear to the three Dark Warlords that Anubis, now drugged and brainwashed, needed them to bring him back to the Nether Realm.
While Cale pondered these thoughts, he saw himself, in his mind's eye, walking down a blackened hallway. Dark and empty, it seemed to give off the image of an abandoned battlefield, no longer covered with dead and dying bodies, but still reeking of fresh, free-flowing blood. An electric, skin-tingling silence hung thick in the air, and as Cale made his way around, he realized that he wasn't alone. Much to his amazement, another man stood at the end of the hall wearing a reproduction of the kimono he wore. From only a distance of five feet away, Cale noticed the male also carrying the exact same Black Wolf's Sword as he did when he charged into battle, but as he started walking towards the person, the warlord was shocked to find that his mental guest was almost a carbon copy of himself.
"What took you so long?" The duplicate smiled, looking at Cale with his blood-red eyes and baring his canines that absently made the scarred warrior think that one of his wolves had taken human form.
"Who are you?" Cale demanded, slowly absorbing in the details of the replica standing before him.
"I am you. To be more accurate, I am the manifestation of your inner demons, desires, and your cravings to hunt those you call your prey, and break them to your will."
"I see." Cale mused, a puzzled look gracing his features. "Then may I ask why you're here?"
"Of course," the apparition smiled, causing a subtle raise in the room's temperature. "I thought that your yearning to hunt a certain red-haired youth would make your mind an open book. However, I see that we must dig deeper before all the manners of polite society are upheld."
Cale blinked, unsure if his other half was mocking him, testing him, or if he was simply playing a human-sized game of Go. "That red-haired youth has a name; what do you want to know about Anubis?"
"Nothing much," the illusion continued. "Although I find it interesting that you called this victim by his given name. I wonder; do you still care about him? Surely you must have plans for this one; not like the other insects we've butchered over the past four centuries?"
"You mean those weak and foolish creatures that Dais, Sekhmet, Anubis, and I slaughtered for opposing Master Talpa will? What of them?"
"Nothing; I'm just drawing a comparison between those we've killed, and our new prey?"
"Our new prey; last time I checked, this battle was between him, me, and not you."
"I see. Then because I have no say, I assume you're going to kill him?"
A false, glass-shattering chuckle soon left Cale's mouth. "Why should I? Capturing the traitor would be far less messy than taking his life."
"Capture him? Wait; you're telling me that because Anubis betrayed you and the Dynasty that you have a responsibility to bring him back to the empire. Yet, as you've just said, if this were any other person, then you would've killed him or her on the spot. Doesn't that sound like a personal vendetta?"
Cale stirred uncomfortably. Normally such an accusation wouldn't have bothered him, but in this time of war, a personal grudge could equal the more dangerous charge of treason. "This isn't personal; it's for the good of the Dynasty. We are at war, and every man in the city must take up arms. Besides, what makes you think I can indulge my whims?"
"We aren't talking about personal wants," the semblance grinned, seeing through the lie. "Though, the sight of Anubis strolling around the Nether Realm with those five Ronin Warriors infuriates you to no end. Speaking of you, while we're sitting here, and you're expecting me to believe that you can pluck Anubis off the battlefield, capture him, and spare him from execution, that Talpa will blindly agree to your decision. He is your lord; what makes you think he'll go along with any of his subordinates' plans?"
Cale gave off a nervous laugh. "I think you've been listening to too much wild gossip. You've just accused me of treason, but you don't have any proof. It's your word versus mine, and this is all hearsay without-"
"Proof," the façade chuckled, cutting off his physical half. "All the proof I need comes from your words and actions. Yes, I do believe that you want Anubis back, but I also know that you want to join his capture with personal vengeance. The Ronin Warriors have wounded your pride, and the Dynasty has nothing to do with it. Not only do you want to capture Anubis, but you also want him to watch you sever the bodies of those five children. You want to eliminate the girl and child in the most painful, bloody, and violent way you can imagine. Moreover, you want to crush Anubis' new life in your gauntleted hand, revel in the power that comes from bloodlust, and you don't care what Talpa, Dais, or Sekhmet think. I'll ask you this one more time; is this battle really for the good of the Dynasty, or is it personal?”
Cale became worried. If anyone in palace had heard those words, then he would've found himself in the throne room, answering serious allegations. "You only have words," he stuttered, hoping that no one was listening in. "Thoughts can be manipulated and bent to another person's will; there is still no physical-"
"If you don't believe me, then let me ask you this: if Anubis' defection didn't hurt you as badly as you claim, then why did Dais, you, and Sekhmet set up Gogasha to be killed after he threatened to take Anubis' place? Moreover, what about those bold, swaggering statements, saying that you hated Kayura and wanted your red sky child back. That didn't come from court gossip. Then there was the time you and Dais argued inside a storeroom after Anubis defeated him at the train tracks? The whole place staff in that wing heard the two of you, and I doubt that more than three people would make up the same-"
"Fine," Cale interrupted, realizing he had lost. "I'll come out with it! Yes, I miss Anubis! I want him back, I want the Ronin Warriors dead, and I'm taking this fight personally! What else do you need to know?"
"Nothing; I have all that I want. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone what we've talked about, but I think that your beloved prey should know that his capture wasn't based on you following orders. When you have him at your mercy; chained in the castle dungeons and broken in spirit, tell him that you need him, that you have missed him, that you will never let him go, and that he means more to you than any bolt of silk, gold, or silver. I don't care how you attain your means; you can decapitate the Ronin Warriors, rape and behead the girl, and use the boy child for sword practice, but for this confession to be genuine, you must hunt the red-haired child with the fervor of a hunter enraptured by his prey."
After those words had formed, something shoved Cale's mind away from the internal conference until he slowly, wearily came back into the conscious world. When Cale opened his eyes, he blinked twice, and brought his hands to his chest. There, he felt a rapid thumping motion as horror registered on his face. How had that part of him known?
THE END
End Notes-I would like to thank all my Beta Readers. Without you, this revamp would have never been possible!
Zune Christmas Shop Mule · Wed Feb 28, 2007 @ 06:42am · 0 Comments |
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OMG, Object won First Place in a fan fiction contest, and Isobel came in Second Place!
Runs around like a mad, screaming fangirl! whee whee whee
Zune Christmas Shop Mule · Wed Feb 21, 2007 @ 06:46am · 0 Comments |
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Yes, after a month of writers block, I now have a new Ronin Warriors / Yoroiden Samurai Troopers fan fic. It's titled Object, but I'll let you read it.
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Disclaimer-I will never own Yuli, Mia, Anubis, the Ronin Warriors, the Three Dark Warlords, or Talpa. They belong to Sunrise, Nagoya Television, Graz Entertainment, and Ocean Group. I am making no money from the posting of this fan fiction, nor should I receive any money for such reasons.
Object
Isabel Night aka Lorelei Yeager
Tokyo is a city that never sleeps; the setting of the sun and the rising of the moon that once controlled old Edo is now lost to a maze of artificial lighting, vehicles, and people always on the move. When the Moon God bathes in an inky blackness, adorned with the silver lights of heaven, the local Shinto Priest says that his sister shall return, welcoming the world with orange, yellow, and red hues. For now, a small group of bar hosts and waiters stay, knowing that soon, it will be the right moment for them to earn a living, seal a transaction, and add a few extra dollars to their bank accounts.
Evenings also allow many office complexes to give off their wan, ghostly light. These nocturnal hours often see men and women rushing around at the last minute, prepping for a meeting, finishing an overdo project, or preparing for a business trip. In one such office, a twenty-three year old male with black hair and brown eyes was working on the latter.
Yamano Yuli leaned back in his brown leather chair, sighing as he tried to ignore the late hours and lack of sleep that was making both his eyes water and burn. Fresh out of college and a recent addition to Yamanaki Incorporated, he had only worked in the company for two months until his supervisor, Yutakano Goro, came to him with a new assignment. One of Yuli's older coworkers had been in charge of an important transaction of nuclear reactor parts; a two-year deal forged between an American company, Bechtel, and their own. Everything was going smoothly, until the unnamed coworker had a sudden heart attack. With the employee still in the hospital, someone had to step up and secure the deal.
The news of the heart attack, however, was nothing compared to the shock Yuli would receive when Mr. Yutakano walked into his office an hour later and asked him to finalize the job. His colleagues congratulated him, saying, "It is a great honor to seal such an important matter."
Despite their words of encouragement, Yuli had his doubts.
Two weeks after being surprised with his new task, which led to frustration, bent paperclips, unruly staplers, expensive pens that never wrote, and dealing with an American he could hardly understand, Yuli was now positive that he could seal the agreement. Two days from today he would catch an early flight from Narita International Airport, fly to Philadelphia International Airport, and then arrive at Bechtel's office; located within Philadelphia's city limits. There, he and his American counterparts would hammer out the final details, sign the necessary paperwork, and then go out to dinner. True, this trip would not be as exciting as the one he took to New York almost thirteen years ago, but maybe it would rekindle something exciting, like that one time—
"Yuli," a woman's voice called out, pulling him out of his thoughts and back into his modestly furnished office. "Are you feeling well? Your eyes look red and you've been a bit dazed all evening. Is that business with Bechtel still bothering you?"
"I'm fine Natsuko," Yuli sighed as he took in the view of his department's secretary. "This transaction is important to the company. If the Americans want to close in on a good price for these materials, then I have to give the contract my fullest attention."
"And working to the point of becoming sick?" Yamasaki Natsuko scolded in a motherly tone. "Just how many nights have you been working on this transaction without eating or going back to your apartment? The Americans would be disappointed if you came to complete the exchange with a cold and clouded head."
"I don't need a mother, Natsuko." Yuli huffed, wishing the young woman to leave him alone and pester someone else. "Besides, what are you doing here this late in the evening? If this is one of your husband-hunting schemes, then my answer is—"
"What makes you think I'm husband-hunting?" Natsuko interrupted in false outrage, flashing the brightest smile she could manage. "The only reason I'm here is to deliver some mail."
"Someone wrote to me?" Yuli inquired; he had never gotten much mail in his office inbox; at least, not until he had agreed to take up the American transaction. "Who's the sender?"
"There was no return address on the envelope," she waved, glancing back at the cover. "From what I can tell, someone wrote the thing for you fifteen years ago, yet never bothered to mail it."
"What do you mean fifteen years ago?" Yuli's eyes went wide, despite the burning sensation that still lingered there. It couldn't be possible; fifteen years ago, a demon lord named Talpa, had declared war on the Mortal World. Had it not been for five brave young men, the Ronin Warriors, the evil spirit would have succeeded. Who would be sending him mail from that horrible time?
"I mean that someone was supposed to send this card fifteen years ago, but it never reached you."
"Let me see," Yuli demanded, snatching the envelope from Natsuko's grasp.
Yuli quickly ripped open the covering until he held a greeting card in his hands. It felt somewhat stiff, like cards usually do, but it didn't come across as anything his parents, Mia, Ryo, Rowen, Sage, Kento, or Cye would have sent. In this lighting, he couldn't tell if the card was white or cream colored, but since Natsuko had walked out of the room in a huff, he could afford a few minutes of distraction.
The center cover of the card bore a drawn kanji, which was starting to fade. Yuli didn't recognize the artist, but someone must have used a large calligraphy brush and rubbed ink. "Nin," he murmured, recognizing the kanji and looking slightly confused. 'Why does this card have the word "endure" on its front?' He wondered.
There was no traditional greeting; all that was on the inside of the card was a reprinted poem. The words tugged at Yuli's mind for a bit, but prevented him from recognizing the source. "The waves cap in white, as the land is washed away," he read, skimming over the rest of the poem until he read the last three lines.
"My duty is to those I love, my love is given freely. If I can endure pain to embrace my goal, the means have shaped me; molded in my own way."
Yuli recognized the wording; this was one of Anubis' writings! Now he remembered! Anubis had read this, along with several other poems, the day before they entered the Dynasty, to fight the final battle!
"I know this poem," Yuli whispered, trembling. "Mia was cooking in the kitchen while Anubis was standing by one of the large windows, looking at the sky. I had walked into the living room and found the book he had finished. I tried to read some of the poems, but they were hard for me understand. I later told Anubis that the book was confusing, but he just chuckled."
"He told me, 'Poetry is one of the classical arts that helps polish a person's mind.' After dinner, he read some of his poems to me while we were in the sitting room. I can't believe that any of his works have survived."
It had been an innocent time; the last day Anubis was alive. Unfortunately, that bliss changed the moment he decided to teleport all three of them to the Nether World, and sacrifice himself to save Lady Kayura and those ingrates, the Three Dark Warlords. Yuli was eight years old at the time, but the war, coupled with Anubis' early death, forced him to mature. After all, how many eight year olds understood that bad things happen in war, and if you didn't rise to the occasion then everyone you knew or loved could die?
After the Ronin Warriors, affectionately known as his "big brothers" had won, Yuli made a vow never to take life for granted. However, as he moved through high school, college, and finally to his new job, it seemed like the meaning of his promise had eroded with time. Was this card a reminder; Anubis' way of repeating the promise he made? After all, Anubis taught him to guard those who were precious to him, and if he could do that, then—
"Yuli," Natsuko interrupted, peering into young man's office again. "Do you want some coffee? I just brewed a fresh pot."
"No thanks; I think I'll be fine until morning."
THE END
End Notes-I would like to thank all my Beta Readers for looking over this story. Without you, this story would have never left the ground.
Zune Christmas Shop Mule · Sat Jan 20, 2007 @ 01:38am · 0 Comments |
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