Hello everybody!
First, I don't own Ni No Kuni, though it would be pretty cool if I did.
Second...I forgot what second was. Oh well, on with the story!
"You idiot! You stupid, stupid, idiot!"
The man kicked at the purple crystal shell that surrounded him and hurt his toe for his troubles, which didn't improve the man's mood. He shook his head, stamping his foot in his fit of anger. "You didn't have to go and bleeding touch it, did you? You stupid old...dammit!"
Leaning against the wall of rock and sliding to the ground, he looked out of his prison into the world beyond. Hidden in a small alcove, where few would find it, was his crystal prison. He'd tried everything to get out, he'd even tried to shoot it with his pistol, only to have it ricochet back towards his face. He was lucky the air was like water, slowing everything down. He'd tried to summon his familiars outside the crystal, but they couldn't seem to penetrate the wall, as fragile as it looked.
"I'm stuck," he muttered, holding his head in his hands. After everything he'd been through, and escaped, it was his own stupid carelessness that had gotten him into this situation. Running a hand through his curly hair, he thought about his friends. Had it really been six months ago when they had defeated the White Witch, and he had ended up traveling from town to town, no longer a thief, but a bounty hunter and mechanic? Marcissan had pleaded for him to go back to the palace after his adventure was over, but...no, he wouldn't. The high and mighty life...well, it just wasn't him. He took care of himself. Everything he had, he had earned by himself...how he had earned them was no matter.
His mind wandered to Oliver. Oliver, the thirteen-year old boy, who had saved him when he was brokenhearted, who had helped him realize he could be more than just the lowly thief he had been. Of course, that didn't mean he stopped stealing entirely, after all, there were those rich annoying people who deserved to be stolen from. Everyone else thought he had stopped in his roguish ways, and he didn't bother to change their assumptions. If they knew, they would have objected, especially Esther...
Esther. The man closed his eyes, pulling his faded green trench coat closer. It had only been a week ago...closing his eyes, he recalled the memories back.
Screams. It was the screaming that first grabbed his attention. Hiding behind a sand dune, waiting for the Bonehead to pass because he couldn't be bothered to fight it, he heard the screams, distant, yet screams nonetheless. Looking up, he saw Al Mamoon, it's gates flooded with people as they ran from the city. Above them loomed a large black tornado, but it seemed to stay in one spot.
"Esther!" He muttered. "What did she do this time?"
Taking no heed of the monsters, he ran towards the city. Nimbly sliding through the crowd, he leapt with surprising agility onto the rooftops of the houses, and ran. It had been a long time since he had done this, but at least he was away from the crowds, where he could observe what was happening.
"Father!" Esther tried desperately to see him through the thick clouds. Her fingers flew over the strings, creating a strong, pounding melody, and the music seemed to dispel the mist for a moment. She could see Rashaad, standing strong in the midst of the danger, keeping the darkness away as pulse after pulse of light shot out of his staff. Then the darkness swirled faster, and tightened around her father, once again hiding him from view. Esther could barely hear her father's yells over the wind, and she leapt forward, to dive into the clouds.
And then the darkness vanished, and lying on the ground was Rashaad's staff. He was gone.
"No!" Esther dropped to her knees. "No! Father! FATHER!"
Tears streamed down her face, but she didn't wipe them away. She only sobbed, her head in her hands.
A pair of strong arms embraced her, and she tensed. She knew who he was, and yet...he was the last person she had expected to comfort her. It was this unexpected act of kindness that broke her, and she turned, crying into his shirt. He said nothing, but let her cry, turning her away from the eyes of staring people.
"I'm sorry," he whispered into her ear.
Wiping her eyes, she looked up into his face. He smiled at her, an understanding smile, and she almost collapsed into tears again.
"Come on," he said, helping her to her feet. "Let's get you inside." Esther nodded, bending down to pick up her father's staff.
As she went into her house, the man turned to the crowds, a frightening scowl crossing over his features. He stood there, glaring at the people, who fidgeted uncomfortably and turned away, murmuring, wondering who the strange man was.
He sat at the dining room table, patiently waiting while she washed the dried tears from her face. "You can't stay here," he told her as she sat down next to him. "That...that thing, it could come back."
"But Al Mamoon's my home," she protested. "I can't leave!"
"It's too dangerous," the man persisted. "If it comes back, it could take you, too. You saw what it did to your father, and I don't think your music will do much to keep it from defeating you."
"Then where do I go?" She blinked back tears. "I don't have any relatives or family left. I'm alone."
"No you're not. You've got your friends."
Esther looked up. "You mean..."
The man sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I can't believe I'm actually doing this, but..." he placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm going to take care of you, Esther. I don't want you to become like...like who I was."
Esther bit her lip, and tears began to well up again in her eyes. "Thank you...Swaine."
Swaine held out a hand and helped her up to her feet. "You should pack your things. We're going to Hamelin, where you'll be safe." Hopefully, he thought, but he didn't voice it aloud.
About a week later, Swaine and Esther were sitting with Marcissan in the dining hall. The servant had prepared a delicious meal, but food seemed to be the least important thing now. Marcissan stared off into space. "This...black tornado...I have never heard of it's like before. And you say that it overpowered Rashaad?"
"Yes," Swaine responded, looking over at Esther. She looked down at her food, but didn't eat, which worried him.
"I will look into this," Marcissan said. "Until then, I insist-" he looked pointedly at Swaine- "that you stay the night."
Swaine sighed. "I suppose one night can't hurt."
As one of the servants escorted Esther to her room, Marcissan grabbed Swaine's shoulder. "Do you really mean to take on the role as Esther's guardian?"
Swaine turned to his brother. "Sometimes she can be annoying, but she's my friend, and I take care of the few friends I have. I'm not sure how to say it..." Swaine scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. "She's like a sister to me, and I just can't stand to see her hurting."
"But what about your...condition?" Marcissan looked away, and Swaine smiled grimly. "I've just got to hope that it doesn't get worse until Esther can take care of herself."
"Gascon, I'm trying everything. If there's any way I can help-"
"Actually, there is."
"Then tell me what it is, and I shall do it."
"Do you still have a place in the palace for another person?"
Marcissan looked up, hopeful. "Do you mean to say that you are...coming back?"
Swaine shook his head. "No. The life of a prince isn't for me. But maybe another person could take my place, perhaps?"
"Esther?"
"Precisely. My house isn't exactly...a two-person place."
Marcissan rubbed his forehead. "I'll see what I can do. But Gascon...I'm worried about you."
Swaine chuckled slightly. "I'll be fine. I'm just worried about Esther. This unexpected change will take a while to get used to." Turning around on his heel, he walked towards the palace doors.
"Where are you going?" Marcissan asked.
"I'm going out to get some fresh air," Swaine replied over his shoulder.
"Be careful," Marcissan warned. "The monsters can get pretty dangerous."
"I'll be fine," Swaine said. "After all, what could go wrong?"
"Idiot," Swaine muttered to himself. The rocks around him seemed to be what held the crystal in place, and very few could find the opening of the crystal. The smoke-filled skies were darkening as the sun began to set. Would they ever find him?
Slipping and sliding on the rocks, Swaine climbed up the rocky mountain. Below him, a rouge tin man tried to hoist itself up after him, but every time it got close, Swaine's own iron-man familiar, Clunky, would whack the mechanical beast back down to the bottom. Finally, he reached a safe ledge where the rocks seemed sturdy to support his weight. Calling Clunky back into his heart, he sat down, swinging his long legs over the side. Far below him, the rouge tin man whistled angrily, steam pumping from his head. He smirked as it shook its metal arms at him, then turned and walked away.
No one ever went up here. That's why it was perfect. He could see the rolling hills, the beasts roaming around the land, and, glowing with light, the city of Hamelin. As he was going to turn and slide back down, his sharp eyes noticed a strange purple light in the shadows on the other side of the mountain. He hadn't tried to go to that side before, the rocks seemed unstable and a fall would mean certain death. The only way across seemed to be a small thin ledge. As he looked, he noticed that at the other end, sticking out of the cliff, was a large, sturdy shard of rock. Swaine smiled. Maybe he could get across while reducing the danger of falling to his death. Pulling his gun from his trench coat, he pointed to the shard of rock and pulled the trigger. A large metal claw shot out and latched itself to the rock, with strong wires keeping it secured to the gun. With his gun held tightly in one hand, he edged along the small ledge of rock. "This is stupid," he told himself. Thankfully, the gun's aid was not required, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped onto firm ground on the other side. With a flick, the claw released and flew back to his gun. There was no mistake-something was there. Stealthily, he edged along the rock, and what he saw took him by surprise.
In front of him was a large purple crystal, pulsing gently with light, and shielded from sight by the rocks that trapped it. It was easily twice the size as he was, and the light reflected enchantingly off of its smooth surface.
Written in white on the crystal was a symbol, similar to Oliver's gateway symbol, but the line that went through it was horizontal instead of vertical. As though in a trance, he stepped towards it, and, as though it were the most fragile thing in the world, lightly touched it.
The world spun around him in a dizzying blindness. Swaine tried to break free of the crystal, but his fingers seemed to be glued to it. Light blinded him, and he shielded his eyes with his other hand. Then the world stopped spinning, the light disappeared, and everything was still. And then, as Swaine jerked his hand away, he realized that he wasn't outside the crystal, but inside it. "No!" He yelled, pounding on the crystal with his fists. "This can't happen! No! NO!"
Swaine sighed. How long would it be until he died in this prison? The place seemed to be filled with magic, and Swaine knew that he wouldn't die of hunger or thirst. Despite the hours he must have spent in there, he felt no want for food or drink. And yet, if he fell asleep, who knows if he would wake up? The sun had disappeared, and the world was dark. Swaine yawned. No. Don't fall asleep. It's dangerous to fall asleep.
As soft, warm wind swirled around his head, bringing the scent of flower. Swaine's eyelids felt heavy. Sleep, the wind seemed to whisper to him. Sleep, and never wake.
"No," He muttered, and yawned again. "I'm not going to..." He tried to fight the desire of slumber, but slowly, his eyes closed, and he sank into the mysterious realm of unconsciousness.
The magic crystal pulsed brightly, the air inside swirling around Swaine's form. He was lifted into the air, but his eyes didn't open. And in the center of the crystal he was left, suspended. His head rolled to one side and he started to snore. And for years, he hovered there, trapped in the crystal, never waking, never aging. But one day, all of that changed.