Once Upon A Time…
by Mayushii
All copyright materials are property of their respective owners.
A/N: This is a complete revision of an old story. I'm too embarrassed to print its name, the original was so bad… -.-; Anyway, the basic idea of this scene is conveyed through actions, so I won't translate the dialogue. Beware of time lapse and disorientation next chapter, because this prologue won't tie in with the main story for a few chapters at least. Hope you enjoy this. Please review!
Oh yeah, and this chapter is dedicated to Funara. She doesn't write fanfics anymore, but if this story interests you then you might like her stories too. So go check them out!
Once Upon A Time…
The moon shone down on white sand, cool and radiant as the ruler of the kingdom below. Its pale glow passed through a large balcony window and entered what many would describe as a treasure hoard. There were silk tapestries hanging from the smooth walls; a rich three-panel screen that hid a collection of fine clothing; potted trees with leaves that seemed to glow and branches hung with little gold and silver and jeweled ornaments. Each treasure in this room was worth its weight in gold, yet there was one that was worth more than any other. It was hidden under a gossamer canopy and ivory-colored silk, and for its guards were four spiraling gold bedposts.
Shuichi whimpered in his sleep. He was a beautiful boy, slender and graceful, with soft red hair and a face often graced by a sweet, welcoming smile. Tonight, though, worry creased his delicate features. Sweat soaked his brow, and the flush on his face was one of pain rather than pleasure.
"Onegai," Shuichi whispered. He pressed his lips together, but a frantic cry soon tore them apart. "Y-yamete!"
He bolted upright in bed, his breaths ragged. His wide, fearful eyes darted around the room, but he found no intruders save the moonlight and shadows.
Pressing a trembling hand to his chest, the boy sat up. Akumu… Akumu dake. He wiped his damp brow with the back of his hand and licked his lips, swallowing. He felt as if he had swallowed sand, but he didn't know if it was because of fear or the dry air.
Shuichi pushed aside the thick, ivory silk of his blanket. Why in the world did he need such heavy covers when it was so hot, anyway? He parted the gossamer curtains and slipped out of his bed, pouring a cup of water from the pitcher on the bedside table. Closing his eyes, he drank deeply from the cup. Some of the cold water trickled from the corner of his mouth, but he kept drinking, trying to soothe his parched throat even as his body ached feverishly.
Licking the last drops from his lips, he replaced the cup on the table and walked across the room to the veranda. He went to the edge and propped his elbows up on the ledge. The air was blissfully cool out here. He closed his eyes and let the breeze splash across his flushed face.
Oh, why did he feel so hot?
Shuichi opened his eyes, staring off into the distance with a glazed look. The dream… Charred sand under his feet and thunderclouds over his head. Arms clothed in black wrapping around him from behind. One pale hand resting on his stomach, caressing him in the most shameful of ways, while its twin cut his throat with bloodied fingernails…
He shivered, rubbing his neck worriedly, and shook his head. It was a dream. Just a dream.
The boy took a deep, calming breath. He was about to turn from the balcony and go back to his bed when he saw something: a dark line wavering on the edge of the moonlit sand. He squinted. What in the world was that?
He watched the line for a while. As the minutes passed, a cold shiver crept into his stomach and climbed up and down his spine. He took a slow step backward. Another. Another.
From the distance, he heard the sound of a horn. Shuichi stumbled over his own feet and toppled backward, the fall breaking him of his terrified paralysis.
"Onii-sama!" he gasped. He staggered to his feet, tearing across his bedchambers and throwing open the door. He ran down the hall toward his brother's suite. "Onii-sama, okite kudasai!"
He pounded on the door with his fist. There was some noise from the room beyond, and then the door was opened by Youko's mate. Kuronue was holding his rich purple robe closed with one hand, and with the other he combed back his long, smooth black hair.
"Shuichi-kun, mada nemuttenai ka?" Kuronue yawned.
"Kuro-niisan, heitai wo mimashita!"
Kuronue's face lost all traces of sleepiness.
"Nani? Heitai ka?" he asked, eyes sharp and alert. Shuichi nodded sharply as Youko appeared, his pale skin seeming to glow in the darkness.
"Doushita, Shuichi?"
"Onii-sama, heitai—"
There was a loud crack that made Shuichi yelp with fright. Youko's foxlike gray ears swiveled around, and the three ran to the balcony, staring out at the desert. The last sparks of explosive energy were falling from the sky, bathing the land below and the trio on the balcony in an eerie green glow.
"Inari-sama…" Shuichi saw the horror on his brother's face and felt his blood turn to ice. Youko Kurama was never, ever scared.
Kuronue turned to Youko, speaking softly in Alarician. Their voices were quiet but very urgent. Shuichi wished he knew more of the language; he could only pick out a few words here and there. Kuronue said something, and Youko suddenly went so pale that he looked like he might faint.
"Shuichi," Youko said sharply. "Shinshitsu ni ike. Doa no kagi wo kakere."
"O… Onii-sama?" Shuichi blinked, uncertain. Youko gave him a tiny, wavery smile and leaned downward, kissing him on the cheek.
"Ike."
Shuichi stared up at him, clasping his hand delicately to his chest. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, anything…but no words, Edengo or Alarician, came.
"Shuichi-kun, ikenasai!" Kuronue said, giving him an insistent nudge. Shuichi slowly nodded his head and began to walk. He glanced back at the two demons. Youko looked overwhelmed, while Kuronue made some frantic gestures with his hands. "Hayaku!"
Shuichi went back down the hall to his own bedchamber. He closed the door behind him, locked it, and curled up next to the bed on the side closest to the balcony.
There was a flash of green light followed by another loud crack. Shuichi jumped. It looked just like the Alarician fireworks, but those had been harmless, little containers of powder that shot into the air and exploded when they made contact with fire. The flares in the sky were raw, destructive energy—enough to give the illusion that a green sun was rising in the southeast.
"Inari-sama," Shuichi whispered. He hugged his knees to his chest, wishing more than anything that his brother were here to hold him.
A/N: The original title of this story was Mukashi, Mukashi. "Mukashi, mukashi…" is a phrase used at the beginning of Japanese fairytales and is roughly equivalent to "long, long ago."
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