YuBo WAVE!2

Kyuusiasha Bleeding: Thanks Meg. 3


One hundred years ago, there was a small village on the coast that had not yet been swallowed by the briny ocean. This town was watched over by the God of the Sea. The colony had a total population of only seventy-eight. Most of the buildings there were bronzed with sunlight and freckled with moss and their chimneys clenched at the tip of the roof like an old man's pipe. The short, stone pathways joined hands in a circle, showing that friends were never a far distance from home. Brand new fishing boats, with masts held high, sighed and swayed and slapped their feet impatiently in the harbour, waiting for a cloudless day.

In this village, there were only one hundred days per year in which it did not rain.

This didn't bother the families of the community. Though there was an abundance of rain, there was rarely a storm, even far out at sea. This allowed the fishermen of the settlement to make regular voyages and return with a bountiful supply of fat carp. The people also held many parties, and festivals that celebrated the God of the Sea, to whom they owed their sunny fortune.

One such citizen's name was Ivanov, Yuri. He was a young fisherman who loved the sea more than any one else ever could. He respected the land and water piously, and even called the ocean by name out of affection. The name had been chosen carefully, and he decided on "Boris", which had belonged to his late brother.

One normal rainy day, Yuri walked to the harbour early in the morning with the other men. He missed the water, Boris, already, even though he had visited just yesterday. A thin mist kissed his face with droplets as he marched down the dock to his ship. The fog waved to him, but would not leave. He and his crew pulled out of the harbour, joining the four other vessels.

This was a normal and unusual day for Yuri; usually, he would look back at the low grey cliffs, upon which the village sat cozily, but today, he did not turn around once after leaving the warm embrace of the town's light. He sensed an unusual electricity in the damp, cool air. The thick layer of clouds, which at first seemed to be clearing, now returned with reinforcements. The clouds' rumbling drum rang in the distance, followed by grave muttering amongst the fishermen.

They immediately performed traditional ceremonies to satisfy the blind, benign God of the Sea, hoping to keep any fatal storms at bay. Yuri whispered his own prayer after the rites were completed. He tried to speak to Boris directly, asking it to allow them to gather their food in peace.

A second roll of thunder responded to this effort.

Suddenly, violent wind, punching the sails from both sides, riposted. A sharp downpour retorted. Freezing waves washed over the sides of the ships, causing them to sway in a different manner, as though they were uneasy steeds. A bright light in the distance, too white to be the morning sunlight, flashed frighteningly, like a sword.

Every crew of the five fishing boats unanimously agreed to turn around, at the same moment a third drum replied to the lightning. The storm was advancing too quickly. Shouts drowned in the screams of the battered steeds, and crashes of weapon-like lightning, while the blue, icy, fingers below tried to pull them down.

Gradually, the small fence of rock keeping the fishermen from their home came into view. Tension seemed to ease slightly, but the storm continued to rage. However, Yuri wasn't looking at the village. He had his back to it, momentarily frozen in terror, and he only turned around to yell as loud as he could, a warning to the men.

A wave three times the height of the tallest ship mast was racing toward them.

The men jumped into action, urging their fishing vessels onward, and out of the way of the charging, crushing, ocean wall. It was a hopeless endeavour. There was no way to dodge a rush of power like this one. Four of the five boats were swallowed under the water, with a roar and crash that seemed unbearably silent. Their God was silent.

Once back in the village, only one citizen short, the fishermen and every one else congregated in the church. They consulted the priest and attempted to contact the God of the Sea.

"Why are you angry with us, God of the Sea?" one of the villagers inquired.

"Why have you taken one of us to your shadowy palace…why did you take Yuri from us?" another sobbed.

The people in the church gasped. Unexpectedly, the God had appeared before the small villagers in a form that would not surprise them, holding a limp Ivanov Yuri in its arms. It began to speak. It's deep, echoing voice represented eons of crushing loneliness. It was also blind.

"Forgive me," pleaded the God to its people. "I am unhappy. I am not angered. I looked up and listened to your prayers as hard as I was able. But I could not make the storm or the ocean calm its rage. Forgive me," it begged again.

"When I heard Yuri speak about me and to me as though I was his true love, a human, I believed I was human. I believed I should have emotions like humans do. A loneliness such as I have never known crashed upon me, as the tide on the shores. And a love that I have never known seeped into my Godly heart.

"I was jealous of the free life that Yuri had. That he was not with me. In my empty, damned, cold, home under the surface. I was selfish. I wanted Yuri to know that I love him, too," the God stared at the man's pale, calm face. "I could not save him. I did not try. I stole him. To be with me. So I would not be alone anymore. But now I have killed the one who loved me.

"I am a cursed God. To be blessed and cursed with my humanity for all time. if you wish to remember this unworthy God at all, call me nothing but the name Yuri gave to me…Boris. I cannot serve you now. You are alone," it continued.

The pain in its booming voice was excruciating to hear. "I am blind. I should have realized that Yuri was only human. And now, for committing such a sin, so am I. I am a God no longer. Forgive me…" it whispered.

There, in the church of a small village, not yet swallowed by a rush of the merciless ocean, with a total population of seventy-seven, was where the first God died. Boris clutched its one, now dead, love, Yuri, to its chest as its knees gave out, and it slumped to the stone floor. The elegant blue robe and wild silver hair still flowed as though they remained in the God's watery prison. The blank eyes finally closed, and its sorrowful expression washed away. The magnificent bodies of both the cursed God and Ivanov Yuri wrapped together like the spirals of a conch shell.

Outside, the storm howled.

Fin