Wolf
Part One, "Memory"
by Vega
A long time ago, when I was just a child, eleven, maybe twelve at the most, there was this man. I didn't know who he was. He stopped me on the street. It was autumn. He looked dirty and underfed. I wanted to walk away from him, because you know, I had watched all those safety videos in school and see the commercials with the animated bunnies and I knew that when a stranger stops and asks you something, you're supposed to walk away.
But I couldn't walk away from him.
I was with my friends at the time, and we were on our way to the movie theatre, and so I moved to step around me but his hand shot out, faster than I could see, and he grabbed my upper arm.
"Girl," he said, and I was so shocked that he had grabbed me that I froze. "Girl," he said again, "You're one of them."
"Them?" I said. I had no idea what he meant. Maybe he had been talking about my heritage - I was Japanese-American and I'd had problems when I was younger with a boy in school whose father had been a bigot and called me a worthless Jap half-breed. People didn't call me that anymore, but it had hurt at the time, and the sting was still memorable. "What do you mean, 'them'?"
It was really strange.
He stared at me hard, his eyes narrowing, his grip tightening and it began to hurt.
"Let's go, Az!" one of my friends call, her eyes darting wildy around. She didn't know what to do. The other girl was cowering behind her.
"You're one of them," the strange old man repeated and I saw him reach into his jacket pocket. My mind started to run a mile a minute - thoughts of a knife or a gun flashed through my head. He was going to kill me, or stab me, or kidnap me.
Before I could see what it was that he had another voice, a younger fellow from what I could tell, cut in and said, "Let her go, Amphitrion."
I craned my head around and saw the speaker - a kind face, long dark hair, and the most startling blue eyes I had ever seen.
"Stay out of this, Youkai," the man who had hold of me, Amphitrion, said, "I'm going to purify her."
"She doesn't need purifying," the young man said, and I could tell that he was annoyed. "She's fine, you old crazy."
Amphrition snarled and I could see black gaps in his yellow teeth, could smell the sour food that was rotting between them. I gagged and turned my head away. The young man walked forward, and my friends took a few steps backwards, frightened. He put himself between Amphitrion and I.
The old man slapped the young man's hand, the one that was prying the old man's fingers off my arm, and I saw something white and black stick to it. It looked like a rectangle of paper with strange oriental writing on it.
"Youch!" the younger one cried out and jumped back a few steps. "You silly bugger! What was that for!"
I didn't wait to hear the rest of the argument, as the small bit of commotion had weakened the older man's grip on me and I took off across the sidewalk, my friends on my heels. We tore down the block and ducked into the alley that ran along side the cinema we had originally been aiming for.
I put my back against the dirty bricks and leaned over my bent knees, panting and wheezing. I had to take off my violet-tinted sunglasses because they were slipping down my nose.
"What was that?" one of my friends asked, and I shook my head.
"I have no clue." I looked up at them to see if they had any ideas, "You guys?" They shook thier heads and then the other girl said:
"Geeze, Az, put your glasses back on. Your eyes freak me out."
"Sorry," I mumbled and slipped the tinted glass back onto my face.
"They don't freak me out," called a voice from the mouth of the alley and I looked up to see that it was the young man that had rescued me. "I think they're very pretty."
He was slightly red in the face, obviously he had been running as well. His bangs had flown back over his forehead and his ponytail was mussed from the wind. He was dressed in a bright red turtleneck and blue jeans, with black combat boots, which I found very odd. No one wore turtlenecks with blue jeans anymore.
On top of that, he had a black leather duster on, looking far too heavy for the mild September climate. He looked like he was trying to hide something.
I straightened and walked over to him, despite my friend's pulling on my sleeves to prevent it. "Thank you," I said softly, look up into his face. He flashed me a smile and I could see the small pointed incisors that pressed against his smooth bottom lip.
"You're welcome, Sister," he grinned, oozing charm. Then he reached up and pulled my glasses off my face, gently, by the nose-piece. I could see that there was a small burn on his skin from where the strange man had slapped him with the rectangular scrap of paper. "Don't cover your eyes up - they're what make you special."
He folded the arms under the lenses and handed the glasses back to me. I held them in my hands, marvelling at the warmth his touch had transferred to the them.
Then, without so much as a 'see ya', he turned around and walked away, his black ponytail swaying in the breeze, and his hands in his duster pockets. My friends came up behind me, staring over my shoulder. I couldn't tear my eyes off him. I would have watched him forever if he hadn't rounded the corner and walked out of my line of sight.
"What a weirdo," one of them said, and the other agreed.
"I don't know," I whispered, "he looked kinda cool to me."
"Whatever," my friends tugged on my wrists to try to prod me towards the movie theatre. "Let's go."
I broke away from them, running after the young man, my glasses clutched in my hands. I don't know why I was running after him. I think I just wanted to see his smile again. I turned the corner that I had seen him go do and stopped - he had vanished.
Whipping my head around I frantically searched for him, but without success.
He was gone.
Shaking my head, I walked back to the theatre and went through the motions of buying my ticket and taking a seat. But while the movie played, I was watching something else. I had my eyes closed and was reliving the moment he had touched me over and over in my head - his fingertips had brushed my forehead when he had taken off my glasses, and his palm had touched mine when he had handed them to me.
His presence had set off electric sparks in my skin.
His scent made my nose twitch deliciously. He smelled better to me than any gourmet meal ever could. He smelled of summer wind and pine trees, of musky male and a spicy cologne, and underneath all of that, a pure and shimmering scent, electric blue in my mind, powerful and heated. He had smelled like passion.
As he was walking away, I had noticed something else, too. Something that I didn't mention to my friends. Poking out from behind the split in the back of his black leather duster had been a little fluff of brown, which, for some reason, looked to me like a tail.
When the movie was over I bid my friends an early goodnight and spent the rest of the evening, before my curfew, wandering the streets downtown, trying to find this strange young man with the black ponytail and leather jacket.
I couldn't find him.
Wherever I went, for the next few years, I kept my eyes open, hoping to catch a glimpse of the young man who had saved me, but I never saw him again. I looked, though. I looked.
When I got old enough, I started dating men that reminded me of him - men with long dark hair and blue eyes - but their hair just never seemed to shine the way his had, and their eyes were never blue enough. They all looked too Caucasian; the man I fantasized about had been Asian. None of them had furry brown tails, or pointed eyeteeth. None of them smelled like summer wind and cool water and blue passion.
I started dreaming about him at night, this strange fellow, and wondering where he was now, and what he was doing. Wondering if he even remembered who I was.
And then one night I went to sleep, and woke up on a strange futon in a bizarre room, a Young Feudal Lord by my side, with long black hair so much like my mystery man's and brown eyes that shone red, and little memory of who or why I was.
And the Feudal Lord's kisses were dusty and bitter, and in time I forgot that I had ever loved this mystery man at all. I forgot all about him until that night when I made love to the Prince of the Wolves....
... then knew in an instant that I had found him.
Part One, "Memory"
by Vega
A long time ago, when I was just a child, eleven, maybe twelve at the most, there was this man. I didn't know who he was. He stopped me on the street. It was autumn. He looked dirty and underfed. I wanted to walk away from him, because you know, I had watched all those safety videos in school and see the commercials with the animated bunnies and I knew that when a stranger stops and asks you something, you're supposed to walk away.
But I couldn't walk away from him.
I was with my friends at the time, and we were on our way to the movie theatre, and so I moved to step around me but his hand shot out, faster than I could see, and he grabbed my upper arm.
"Girl," he said, and I was so shocked that he had grabbed me that I froze. "Girl," he said again, "You're one of them."
"Them?" I said. I had no idea what he meant. Maybe he had been talking about my heritage - I was Japanese-American and I'd had problems when I was younger with a boy in school whose father had been a bigot and called me a worthless Jap half-breed. People didn't call me that anymore, but it had hurt at the time, and the sting was still memorable. "What do you mean, 'them'?"
It was really strange.
He stared at me hard, his eyes narrowing, his grip tightening and it began to hurt.
"Let's go, Az!" one of my friends call, her eyes darting wildy around. She didn't know what to do. The other girl was cowering behind her.
"You're one of them," the strange old man repeated and I saw him reach into his jacket pocket. My mind started to run a mile a minute - thoughts of a knife or a gun flashed through my head. He was going to kill me, or stab me, or kidnap me.
Before I could see what it was that he had another voice, a younger fellow from what I could tell, cut in and said, "Let her go, Amphitrion."
I craned my head around and saw the speaker - a kind face, long dark hair, and the most startling blue eyes I had ever seen.
"Stay out of this, Youkai," the man who had hold of me, Amphitrion, said, "I'm going to purify her."
"She doesn't need purifying," the young man said, and I could tell that he was annoyed. "She's fine, you old crazy."
Amphrition snarled and I could see black gaps in his yellow teeth, could smell the sour food that was rotting between them. I gagged and turned my head away. The young man walked forward, and my friends took a few steps backwards, frightened. He put himself between Amphitrion and I.
The old man slapped the young man's hand, the one that was prying the old man's fingers off my arm, and I saw something white and black stick to it. It looked like a rectangle of paper with strange oriental writing on it.
"Youch!" the younger one cried out and jumped back a few steps. "You silly bugger! What was that for!"
I didn't wait to hear the rest of the argument, as the small bit of commotion had weakened the older man's grip on me and I took off across the sidewalk, my friends on my heels. We tore down the block and ducked into the alley that ran along side the cinema we had originally been aiming for.
I put my back against the dirty bricks and leaned over my bent knees, panting and wheezing. I had to take off my violet-tinted sunglasses because they were slipping down my nose.
"What was that?" one of my friends asked, and I shook my head.
"I have no clue." I looked up at them to see if they had any ideas, "You guys?" They shook thier heads and then the other girl said:
"Geeze, Az, put your glasses back on. Your eyes freak me out."
"Sorry," I mumbled and slipped the tinted glass back onto my face.
"They don't freak me out," called a voice from the mouth of the alley and I looked up to see that it was the young man that had rescued me. "I think they're very pretty."
He was slightly red in the face, obviously he had been running as well. His bangs had flown back over his forehead and his ponytail was mussed from the wind. He was dressed in a bright red turtleneck and blue jeans, with black combat boots, which I found very odd. No one wore turtlenecks with blue jeans anymore.
On top of that, he had a black leather duster on, looking far too heavy for the mild September climate. He looked like he was trying to hide something.
I straightened and walked over to him, despite my friend's pulling on my sleeves to prevent it. "Thank you," I said softly, look up into his face. He flashed me a smile and I could see the small pointed incisors that pressed against his smooth bottom lip.
"You're welcome, Sister," he grinned, oozing charm. Then he reached up and pulled my glasses off my face, gently, by the nose-piece. I could see that there was a small burn on his skin from where the strange man had slapped him with the rectangular scrap of paper. "Don't cover your eyes up - they're what make you special."
He folded the arms under the lenses and handed the glasses back to me. I held them in my hands, marvelling at the warmth his touch had transferred to the them.
Then, without so much as a 'see ya', he turned around and walked away, his black ponytail swaying in the breeze, and his hands in his duster pockets. My friends came up behind me, staring over my shoulder. I couldn't tear my eyes off him. I would have watched him forever if he hadn't rounded the corner and walked out of my line of sight.
"What a weirdo," one of them said, and the other agreed.
"I don't know," I whispered, "he looked kinda cool to me."
"Whatever," my friends tugged on my wrists to try to prod me towards the movie theatre. "Let's go."
I broke away from them, running after the young man, my glasses clutched in my hands. I don't know why I was running after him. I think I just wanted to see his smile again. I turned the corner that I had seen him go do and stopped - he had vanished.
Whipping my head around I frantically searched for him, but without success.
He was gone.
Shaking my head, I walked back to the theatre and went through the motions of buying my ticket and taking a seat. But while the movie played, I was watching something else. I had my eyes closed and was reliving the moment he had touched me over and over in my head - his fingertips had brushed my forehead when he had taken off my glasses, and his palm had touched mine when he had handed them to me.
His presence had set off electric sparks in my skin.
His scent made my nose twitch deliciously. He smelled better to me than any gourmet meal ever could. He smelled of summer wind and pine trees, of musky male and a spicy cologne, and underneath all of that, a pure and shimmering scent, electric blue in my mind, powerful and heated. He had smelled like passion.
As he was walking away, I had noticed something else, too. Something that I didn't mention to my friends. Poking out from behind the split in the back of his black leather duster had been a little fluff of brown, which, for some reason, looked to me like a tail.
When the movie was over I bid my friends an early goodnight and spent the rest of the evening, before my curfew, wandering the streets downtown, trying to find this strange young man with the black ponytail and leather jacket.
I couldn't find him.
Wherever I went, for the next few years, I kept my eyes open, hoping to catch a glimpse of the young man who had saved me, but I never saw him again. I looked, though. I looked.
When I got old enough, I started dating men that reminded me of him - men with long dark hair and blue eyes - but their hair just never seemed to shine the way his had, and their eyes were never blue enough. They all looked too Caucasian; the man I fantasized about had been Asian. None of them had furry brown tails, or pointed eyeteeth. None of them smelled like summer wind and cool water and blue passion.
I started dreaming about him at night, this strange fellow, and wondering where he was now, and what he was doing. Wondering if he even remembered who I was.
And then one night I went to sleep, and woke up on a strange futon in a bizarre room, a Young Feudal Lord by my side, with long black hair so much like my mystery man's and brown eyes that shone red, and little memory of who or why I was.
And the Feudal Lord's kisses were dusty and bitter, and in time I forgot that I had ever loved this mystery man at all. I forgot all about him until that night when I made love to the Prince of the Wolves....
... then knew in an instant that I had found him.
