The Braids of Death
Chapter One
Ryoma's First Last Day
Once upon a time, it was a normal day, somewhere in the suburban jungles of Japan. (Then again, like all things, the state of normalcy is quite temporary.)
It was morning, around seven to be exact. Students everywhere were waking up drowsily from their soft cushioned beds, futons, or from beer-stained couches, or perhaps outside someone's doorstep from the wild party last night (which, as stated by the parents, they were not allowed to attend). It was Monday, a day hated by most, and loved by very very very few. Nevertheless, it was a nice Monday, with the sun shining and the birds warbling…that sort of thing—
"Oi, shounen! Shounen!"
A scarily excited voice rang through the Echizen household, coupled with some undignified running up the staircase. Nanjiroh was a grown man, and if his grandmother were still alive, she would surely avert her eyes in embarrassment and disown him. Surely.
The man's tall shadow loomed over the only door in the house which had a yellow 'Keep Out' sticker stuck to it. With little deliberation beforehand, he swept the door open, revealing a small, well-kept bedroom, whose occupant was currently snoozing within the mountain of comforters and blankets that lay around him.
"Wake up time!" With a smile on his face, the tennis samurai whipped everything off the bed, sending bits of dust into the air, as well as an extremely irritated fifteen year old boy flying to the floor. An uncomfortable thud resounded.
"Ughhh…"
Usually, the first thing you see in the morning upon emerging from sleep is NOT the carpet. Then again, the word 'usually' never really applied to any individual directly related to Nanjiroh. Echizen Ryoma, just woken up, pulled himself off the floor in the hopes that, if possible, his annoyingly overzealous father would say nothing and simply walk out of his bedroom, leaving him, the piteously harassed son, alone to contemplate his weary fate.
"Oi, oi." Nanjiroh put his hands on his hips. "Wake up. Your mother says so, and I need to ring that bell. Hurry!" He poked the back of Ryoma's head.
"Grumblegrumble.."
"Great. See ya at breakfast. The wind of opportunity blows towards the prospect of newfound love!"
After a few erratic stomps, the door slammed shut a few moments later, and on the floor, Ryoma rubbed his head, blinking. With a quiet 'meow' and even quieter footsteps, his pet cat Karupin, and possibly, the only friend he had in this house, padded to the young man's side, raised a paw and began playing with his master's hair.
"…"
Ryoma stood up, leaving the feline to look up at him with its giant yellow eyes and pretend to be adorable. The tennis prodigy glared at the housepet dispassionately. After staring at his bed for a few minutes, a loud, low rumble from the depths of his stomach signaled that it was time to begin the ominous descent down to breakfast. And he did.
Echizen Ryoma was not himself on this lovely Monday morning. He was dazed and he was tired, and, despite his hopes, Nanjiroh had an inkling that his son's unusual behavior had nothing to do with the wild party last night. (Not that he allowed Ryoma to attend…the mother would kill him, of course…tsk. He needed more social exposure, that boy. After all, how was he going to meet any nice girls by going straight home after tennis practice? Teenagers these days…But then, he thought, there's always the old hag's granddaughter…)
Ryoma's father pushed a plate of waffles in front of him. The golden-brown pieces of food were caked in honey. The boy eyed the plate warily. His mother wasn't there, and neither was Nanako-chan. They probably went to the market or something, leaving him with this-this—excuse for a father. Nanjiroh opened one of his magazines and cocked an eye at his son.
"Here. Food. Eat." It was like talking to a rock.
Without much protest, Ryoma grabbed a fork, speared one waffle, and stuffed it into his mouth, honey and all. Nanjiroh blinked, and Karupin wound himself around one of the legs of the boy's chair, mewing worriedly. Ryoma chewed, reflecting on the fact that the waffles tasted a little bit burnt, and that his father had probably put something inappropriate into the mix. He swallowed, drained a glass of milk, stood up, and retreated the way he came.
Without a sarcastic comment about the food. Without asking about his mother. Without dissing Nanjiroh's immature magazine hobby.
Both the cat and the man stared after him with wide eyes. They looked at each other, then at the spot where Ryoma had been. Nanjiroh shrugged after a while, and went back to his reading.
"It's none of my business," he quipped, flipping a page. "Unless it has something to do with a girl, of course."
"Meow," agreed Karupin.
.0o0.
It was noontime, but in another dimension, the day was already darkening. Sitting in front of a laptop atop an ancient wooden table, the Grim Reaper blinked at the screen in disbelief. The blueish light glowed eerily, casting dim shadows on the bony being's face. Clicking ferociously, Death ran through the email he'd received from Fate once more.
To- Grimmie
From- Fate the Great
Elinor Finn
Lawrence Gibbons
Ryoma Echizen
Please take care of them before midnight. Thank you. –Fate
Somewhere in the folds of Death's black robes, a set of carpals twitched involuntarily. Was he seeing things, or did the legendary Fate just commit a fatal (cough) error? The Grim Reaper knew that the first name on the list was an old lady with brain cancer who was due to pass into the afterlife at any second. The other one was a janitor-turned-formula one racer, and would take a deadly spin off the track. But the last one…
Echizen, muttered Death. From what he remembered, the last name on the list was a boy, still, who, as of now, wasn't scheduled to do anything remotely threatening to his health. And he was an athlete, for goodness' sake. Even Fate knew how annoying getting an athlete to part with his soul was.
A bony finger double-clicked, and the screen went blank. Death shook his head. It was very unlikely that Fate was mistaken, of course, since an error like that could seriously alter reality in very unpleasant ways. Standing up from his chair, the Reaper reached for his scythe inside the coat closet.
Let's do this he muttered, snapping his fingers. Instantly, a door-shaped patch of white appeared before him, and without another word, Death stepped out.
.0o0.
Never in her entire life had Sakuno seen so many strange things happen in one single day. First, it was during lunchtime. As the routine went, she ate outside with Tomoka, under the green airy trees, under the lovely blue sky. They talked to each other about random things that school girls usually speak of, and then when the bell rang, they would depart for class. But this time…it was rather…different.
The bento lunch her mother had made was delicious. Sakuno sighed as she picked a delectable-looking slice of sashimi from her box, putting it into her mouth. If only she could cook like okasan, then maybe Ryoma-kun would actually eat the lunch she made. Tomoka was chattering about something indulgently while going through her own food container, waving her chopsticks in the air.
"Those Hello Kitty slippers were sooooo cute, so I just had to get them. Tousan said it was a waste of money, but sometimes a girl's got to do what a girl's got to do, ne Sakuno-chan?"
A familiar figure wandered out of the school and into their vicinity, and Sakuno stopped eating. She watched curiously with largish amber eyes, as the white cap bobbed across the field. Ryoma-kun, as usual. He had his bag in hand and was going to eat lunch in that tree he always ate in. The one nearest the tennis courts.
Sakuno watched as the boy opened his lunch, ate it, and climbed into the tree to nap. As he settled onto one of the large branches, two men exited the school building the same way Ryoma came. They wore bright yellow hardhats, clear plastic goggles, and gloves. One man carried what looked like a large chainsaw.
"…foremen?" she murmured, watching curiously.
"Sakuno-chan, are you going to eat your lunch or stare at Ryoma-kun until the bell rings?" Tomoka cut in, smirking.
The girl's cheeks pinked, as she protested and apologized at the same time, stuttering. "A-ah, gomen…I was just—"
A loud, bark-crunching noise interrupted her, combined with the mechanical roar of an engine, and both girls' heads whirled towards the sound. The two men that Sakuno had been observing were sawing through the middle of Ryoma's tree. The braided girl's eyes widened in horror.
"T-Tomo-chan…That's Ryoma-kun's tree they're cutting down!"
This is easier than I thought, mused Death, leaning unseen against the wall.
Tomoka stared at Sakuno, then at the men, the tree, and the throttled sleeper nestled in its branches. Her mouth was wide open, speechless for once. Sakuno got up, dashing over to where the men were. The saw spewed bits of wood and sawdust that ricocheted across the field, making it dangerous to approach the tree. Waving her arms in the air, the girl yelled at the men frantically.
"Excuse me!" she shouted, reddening from the effort.
There was no reply from either of the men, and they continued driving the saw through the trunk.
"Excuse me, sir!" she tried again, panicking. The noise was probably drowning her voice. Sakuno's mind raced. What could she do? The girl looked back to Tomoka, who was still blinking and gaping. She would be of no sue. Sakuno sighed and took one shoe off, flinging it the head of the man with the chainsaw.
THWACK!
Bull's-eye. Who said she couldn't hit things with accuracy? The noise stopped, and both men turned to look at Sakuno, irritated. They were big and sweaty, and, judging by the frowns on their faces, not very happy.
"What did you do that for?" one demanded, wiping his forehead on his sleeve.
Sakuno blushed. Inappropriate, she knew, but she couldn't help it. "T-there's someone in the tree!" she blurted out, pointing towards Ryoma, who was, by now, wide awake and looking somewhat shaken. He jumped out of the tree, glad to be back on land.
The man blinked, glanced at the boy, and blinked again, eyes widening.
"Oh. I guess I didn't see him."
Looking at Sakuno, he nodded. "Well, you're a lifesaver…I guess I owe you an apology."
The girl shook her head furiously. "No, it's fine."
The man smiled, spared the boy in the tree a glance, and then motioned for him to get the hell away so they could continue their work. Obligingly, Ryoma ambled over, curious as to what was going on.
"What is it?"
One of the foremen grumbled. "You've got some nerve. Sleeping in our tree."
"I always sleep in that tree," he replied, shrugging.
"Well, thanks to this young lady here, we weren't able to take that tree and saw you into pieces, were we?"
Ryoma blinked and looked at the girl standing beside the man. Wait, said his brain, processing. Brown hair, eyes, and ridiculously long braids. Ryuzaki-sensei's granddaughter. A look of realization and gratitude dawned on his usually expressionless face, and Ryoma smiled a little.
"Thank you."
Sakuno blushed. "Y-you're welcome."
If he had eyelids, Death would have blinked in disbelief. He stared at Sakuno. For a while. That brat…she ruined it! My plan! Eye-sockets turned to the boy he was supposed to get rid of, and the Grim Reaper set his jaw. I'll get you yet, boy.
.0o0.
Unfortunately, the tree incident was only the beginning of Ryoma's 'misfortune', a.k.a. Death's attempts to kill him. The second attempt had been spiking his water with the deadliest sample of Inui juice from the data keeper's laboratory. It was the color of rust, and the reaper was certain that just enough of the substance was enough to knock the boy's soul out of his body.
Mwahahaha…let's he if he'll be able to survive THIS. Orange-brown liquid trickled sinisterly into the white plastic container labeled ECHIZEN, and the cap twisted into place with a squeak of morbid finality.
It would have worked, of course, on any other human being aside from Echizen Ryoma and Fuji Syusuke. This was mostly due to the fact that Ryoma had an extremely annoying ability to avoid nearly everything Death threw at him (some of the credit went to Sakuno, of course,) and Fuji, simply because he was himself.
As it went, a very thirsty Kikumaru Eiji mistook Ryoma's water bottle for his own, gulping the liquid down with zeal, and draining it in seconds. A white-capped head snapped up in alarm.
"Kikumari-senpai, that's my—"
"AGH! THE PAAAAIIN!"
The results were not pretty, and the red-haired regular was hauled to the hospital by Momoshiro and Takamura, convulsing violently. Oishi followed behind with growing concern.
Upon fierce interrogation by Captain Tezuka, a baffled Inui just stared at the bottle Kikumaru had drunken from, at a loss for words.
Dammit, Death cursed.
A chill ran down Ryoma's spine.
.0o0.
The sky was pink and orange and violet, as a burning disc of fiery gold began yet another descent at the end of the day. A battered, bruised, and trampled-on young man walked home, lugging his tennis bag behind him. One broken racket, one nearly-broken rib, and a black eye. Life just wasn't right. Muttering darkly to himself, the tennis prince kicked at the sidewalk absently.
Footsteps came up from behind him, along with the rustle of skirts and the swishing of hair.
"Ryoma-kun!"
Oh great. It's her.
"Hm?" he replied, keeping his pace. A pair of braids swung by, narrowly missing his face, and slightly panting, Sakuno appeared beside him. The boy spared her a glance. She had been running, that much was obvious. The lights of sunset cast an ethereal glow against her face, and he could see the sun reflected in her eyes.
"Are you okay?" She was worried.
No, he thought, Judging by what happened today, I am definitely NOT okay. Instead, he nodded, trying to be as reassuring as he could. Or she would probably think him a weakling. But what did it matter, anyway? Sakuno was just…Sakuno.
A relieved expression crossed her face, and Ryoma felt his insides give a sickening lurch. It was probably because of that nearly-broken rib, he told himself. After all, being trampled in the hallway by hundreds of females was never healthy for anyone. Absently, he wondered how Tezuka-senpai dealt with it.
"Okay then, Ryoma-kun, I'll see you tomorrow!" cheerily this time, Sakuno waved at him. He nodded, and they parted ways. Her braids flew past. Her hair's still too long, Ryoma observed, watching her as she left. A few moments later, he was still watching, until he blinked, shook his head, and muttered something like "wobbly hips" to himself, before continuing the journey home.
Death hovered in the air, watching the boy thoughtfully. Something in his skull went snap, and quite suddenly, the Grim Reaper knew exactly what to do. But it would have to wait until tomorrow, of course. Fate never did like a death that wasn't entertaining. And what a death Echizen's would be.
The braids of Death, mused the Grim Reaper, turning to stare at the young woman who walked in the opposite direction. I like it. He looked back at the boy. Beautiful. Just beautiful.
Hee hee laughed Death. It sounded like the screech of claws ripping down a blackboard. Ryoma shivered involuntarily, and increased his pace by just a little. It was time he got home.
Notes: Hi there, this is a first try at RyoSaku. ;) Hope you like it. Confused? Disturbed? Seeking enlightenment? Please review. Credit goes to Terry Pratchett for the concept of Death and to the PoT manga-ka (name forgotten! Gasp! So sorry!) whose characters are not mine. Sankyuu!
EDIT: 05.29.06 Accidentally posted the draft. It has now been replaced. So sorry. :)