{Commentary on this story can be found on my profile page, have a look if you're curious.}
Tsukune Aono. Age fifteen, male, Japanese, human. A high school student, perfectly average in every way, frankly rather boring. Important none the less, he has a truly grand adventure ahead of him.
Abel Delamar. Age seventeen, male, Portuguese and totally ignorant of that fact, nymph. Also a high school student, an especially lax one at that. His importance, well, that's yet to be decided.
Two figures at the same starting point, each set to forge his own path. This is the beginning…
Tsukune kept his distance, choosing a seat around the center of the bus. Just far enough from the oddities up front, but not so distant to inquire cowardice. At least he hoped as much, he'd rather not be drawn into their little comedy routine as the token "shy-guy target."
Mr. Delamar on the other hand was having a time of this little bus ride. Seated just across and slightly down the aisle from the driver's seat, he and the Bus Driver were now locked in heated battle. Neither seemed ready at all to back down, aching ribs be damned! Abel sized up his blue-suited opponent, his beady firefly eyes glowing oddly bright with smug joy. The bastard was toying with him! Abel would have none of this.
Tsukune all but leapt from his seat as his fellow student belted out a roaring round of evil laughter, expelling all his reserves in one push of maniacal chuckles meant to drive his opponent into submission. Though unintentional, it did have the added effect of forcing Tsukune to cower behind his briefcase.
Alas, there would be no victory for the red-maned wonder known as Abel as the cigar-puffing Driver reared back, contorting in a bone chilling chorus of impish giggles which gradually ascended into a hymn of disjointed cackles more suited to the bastard offspring of a hyena and a dying rabbit than any being resembling a man. The display was awe-inspiring at best.
For the two youths, it jumped directly into nightmare fuel territory.
Mr. Delamar collected his baggage, consisting of a single, green duffle bag, and slowly etched his way out of his seat. He moved with utmost caution, etching his way back through the aisle, his eyes not once veering from the now winded Driver. He pressed against Tsukune's seat, the terrified boy scooting slightly to the side to allow his fellow refugee entrance. Abel slid into place, adopting Tsukune's established stance of hiding completely behind the seat in front of him, away from the prying sight of that… thing at the front of the bus.
The world went dark; they were going through a tunnel. Rational thinking or not, the sudden loss of light gave the two a major spook. The Bus Driver directly addressing them didn't help at all.
"So, you boys are going to Youkai?"
"Good luck boys," were the ominous man's parting words before his portal of evil snapped shut and his rolling box of hell on wheels turned back into the tunnel.
Tsukune was shaking in his poorly polished shoes at the scene that played out before him. Why was he suddenly by the ocean; the tunnel surely hadn't felt that long when they went through it, so what the hell was going on? Did the laws of physics case to exist upon the entrance to said tunnel? Was this odd, autumnal landscape of skeletal trees and scattered graves some alternate dimension not bound by the laws of space and time? What is the Twilight Zone?
The suddenly abstract Aono sought to share his intellectual dilemma with his fellow traveler, turning around only to find nothing in his place. Frantic, desperate for some form of companionship in this alien world, Tsukune's head twisted to and fro in search of his fire-forged friend.
Abel had a time of watching this for about a second before returning to the thing which had caught his interest. A sign post, which to his delight also functioned as a scarecrow for no other reason than setting mood, had been haphazardly chopped to the ground. He was now busily crouched over the debris, reading the smudged message.
Youkai Academy, straight ahead.
Unfortunately the sign was now pointing in the wrong direction, the chipped wood carved into the design of a pointed finger directing the reader clear off the cliff face. Abel briefly entertained the idea of further freaking out his impromptu comrade by waltzing off the side of the sheer drop but, remembering that the sea lay below and that he had a real aversion to large bodies of water, thought better to restrain his antics.
As Abel picked himself up, Tsukune caught sight of his shock of red hair, practically radiant in the receding sunlight. The scrappy youth called out gratefully as he shuffled over to regroup with the only other being in existence as it were, his blind air of relief covering up the natural instinct his body was desperately trying to communicate so he would move out of the fricken way.
No dice there as yet another person chose right then to pop into being, ironically also manifesting a pink basket bicycle racing out of control and directly into a formerly joyful Tsukune. Action begets reaction, injury begets pain, the ensuing incident was simply a paragon of cause and effect. Mr. Delamar would have applauded the exhibition if he'd had the time; hunger was a-calling and this line didn't believe in answering machines.
Tsukune would be fine on his own; not that Abel particularly cared, more that it was simple fact. He'd just made the most important, and painful, first impression of his once perfectly average life. Indeed, for a time, the flower-maned Abel would pass from the young human's thoughts as merely another face in a sea of identical noses, ears, and eyes.
Two lines running at parallels...