A Knight in Pitch Black Armor
The Black Swordsman
Stillness presided over the forest. The entire area was suspended in a perfect moment in time when the forces of light and dark balanced themselves in perfect harmony. The only sound to be heard was the call of a solitary wolf. Left to observe this paradoxical scene, the creature let out a call of both wonder and tension. Through one continuous note, the wolf communicated the peace and sorrow of the scene that was laid before him.
The trees, long since stripped of their green foliage by the harsh conditions of winter, sat in silence. They hardly even stirred as time continued around them. Above, small individual snowflakes trickled down on the barren landscape. On by one, they cascaded down from the sky and settled upon the trees and hard ground with a soft but definite presence. The pureness of the white snowflakes was only contrasted by the sharp dark bark of the trees as they stood in eternal guard over the land.
From behind the faint clouds that masked a sky bathed in midnight blackness, an eternal mother peered out to watch the silence that her child could only bask in at night. The light she lovingly poured on her children glistened in a comforting manner, emphasizing the contrast of the crystalline flakes. For this was the gift a mother could always give her children despite being suspended amongst the faint glints of light in the endless blackness.
To the casual observer this would appear to be an area that was untouched by the troubles of time. The animals had long since vacated the president, and as such, the snow was left in pristine condition as it settled upon the skeletons of the trees and the ground made hard by the cold temperatures of winter. The presence of life seemed to be gone. All that remained was the skeleton of what once held so much vitality and the snow that fell as though to cocoon the scene in an eternal blanket of serenity.
Then, without warning, the spell that had held time captive was broken as a lone figured appeared. Perhaps in even more sharper contrast with the snow, the figure was clothed entirely in black. His pale skin blending in perfectly with the newly fallen snow, he slowly maneuvered his way through the maze of guardians from previous seasons. The only sound to be heard was the soft crunching the white powder made underneath his boots as he made his way forward. The cries of the wolf had faded long ago leaving a void that seemed unnecessary to fill. However, the figure proceeded on as though not affected by the scene around him.
Cloaked in darkness, the figure moved with the confidence of a person on a mission. There was only a slight hesitation in the stride of the figure. Also, a slight slouch in the back indicated a sense of foreboding that was supported by the scene nature had already prepared. From his belt, a sword hung suspended with an air of confidence. This was a unique blade due to the fact that it did not need size to communicate an air of superiority. Sheathed in black, the sword was long and narrow. Topped with a hilt garnished by the presence of black stones, the sword advocated a demeanor of power. There was little doubt that this was a sword that was deadly, and the manner it was worn by its master indicated that the sword alone was not a sense of power.
The master of such a small but threatening weapon was a young man. An imposing individual, he was dressed entirely in black from his cloak to the boots on his feet. Even the hair atop his head challenged the right of the midnight sky to be called black. The only thing of color was his eyes. Piercing in every way, two cunning and observant eyes took in the entire scene with the speed and accuracy that can only come from years of practice. They shown with an eerie blue that radiated from his face and appeared to be glowing in an otherwise monochromatic setting. These were the eyes that had been sculpted and cultivated by the master to prevent any emotion from showing through. Even as the lone wolf let forth his call, the eyes still maintained their neutrality even though faced with the conundrum of the emotions in the wolf's song.
As if on instinct, the man came to a halt and looked up. As though teasing from above, the fair lady darted back behind the clouds casting the grove into a continual shadow. This was the cue that the young man was looking for. Without hesitation, he drew his sword revealing a blade that appeared bathed in oil. Raising it to the sky, he then plunged it into the ground with a force that dislodged the previously undisturbed snow that graced the branches of the tree frames. He kneeled on one knee before the blade, the trees, the snow and the moon. Then, bowing his head in submission, he whispered, "I will find her. I will find the one who can restore the balance and bring life back to this place. To this promise, I swear I will devote my life."
His words seemed hollow in such as vast place, yet they held such meaning. With those words, the young man had forever changed the path of his destiny and, unknowingly, the path of the person who would be most dear to him.
Present Day
Japan
A loud crash echoed throughout the office of Shibuya Physic Research. Consequently, a working environment that had once been a workaholic's haven was shattered into as many pieces as the teapot that caused the commotion. Overall the office was quite simple. A quaint reception area to hold members of the staff as well as potential clients connected to a desk area for the assistant who often doubled as a secretary and tea waitress. Adjoining this room was a door tucked into a corner that was often time closed and easily ignored. The noise coming from this area was often minimalized to include a constant rhythm of fingers typing on a keyboard. A small kitchenette branched off from the main working area and provided the assistant with a venue to make her tea.
Finally, there was one last door in the office that was perhaps the most imposing of them all. Perpetually kept closed, this was the door that led into the dragon's lair. On good days the door actually looked approachable and a brave person may feel free to come and knock as a way to ask permission to enter a dragon's domain. However, there were other days when Attila the Hun wouldn't even consider going near that door. It was just a standard door made out of oak with a simple brass handle on the front. This still does not excuse the fact that the aura being emitted from the office dictated how much bravery a person would need to approach.
On this one particular day, Adolf Hitler would have probably hesitated even is he had the whole Third Reich at his back. This was because the dragon was in a foul mood. The cause of such a foul mood was none other than the assistant that had multiple roles. This particular dragon responded to many names and was often referred to as Naru. This was a name bestowed upon him by the perky assistant Mai Taniyama.
Naru was a teenager who carried himself with the dignity of person of many more years than his mere seventeen. He always wore black as though he was in a perpetual state of mourning. His head was topped with a mess of black hair that seemed perfect even though many stylists would argue it was still in the state achieved by a night in bed. The only vibrant characteristic was his blue eyes. Forever calculating, these vigilant structures were the main weapon with which the dragon was able to communicate vast amounts of anger or indifference.
By contrast, the assistant was almost the exact polar opposite. Petite in frame and in a constant state of perkiness she was far from intimidating. Shoulder length brown hair and chocolate brown eyes that were sparkling as though in perpetual wonder at life grace her face with features of youth. This was perhaps the thing most people treasured the most about her. The world had not yet had a chance to mar her features by periods of suffering that would force the spark from her eyes.
"Mai, tea!" The dragon's tenor voice rang out from his lair for the fifth time in the past ten minutes. Unfortunately for Naru, he had become addicted to his assistant's tea and was currently suffering from withdrawal. However, the elixir in a porcelain teacup had yet to find its way into his hands. This was the reason for the increasing ominous aura emanating from the oak door that could never be so imposing on its own.
In a sudden flurry, the petite frame that was Mai burst into the office completely oblivious to the growing aura of furry surrounding her boss. "I am so sorry Naru. I wanted to get here faster but I dropped one of the teapots."
"I assumed as much. Congratulations Mai, you have defied the natural order by proving that you have less coordination than an amoeba!"
"Naru," Mai pouted, "I happen to know that even you aren't as coordinated as an amoeba! We had to observe one in my biology class this week, and if you had any idea how much effort it takes for that single celled protist to extend a pseudopod and move around, you would never have said that!"
Naru, having immediately chugged down the tea upon his assistance entrance to his office, sat back in amazement. His assistant, who usually couldn't remember the last time she turned in a homework assignment, had just given him correct information about the protozoans – one of the most complex kingdoms in modern biology. However, the training that had permanently ingrained a lack of expression in the young man allowed his features to remain immobile despite his internal shock.
"Well Mai, I'm glad that you have proven yourself capable of applying facts to everyday life. Since you seem so knowledgeable about the field would you care to explain why it has been a part of natural selection for human males to develop facial hair?" Internally Naru smirked. If Mai could answer this question, she would be getting the Nobel Prize right now rather than standing in his office dropping tea pots. With that thought he shivered internally at the thought of his clumsy assistant in a laboratory setting. No, there were way too many breakable things in a lab. And worse, if those breakable things got broke she could accidently release a strain of something like anthrax in the population.
"Ummmm," Mai furrowed her brow as she thought, but just as predicted she came up with no excuse.
"Well assuming your silence is a testament to your ignorance, you should leave now. I need more tea anyway."
With that the normally perky Mai turned an absolutely lovely shade of red and then stormed out of the dragon's office muttering something about him being a narcissistic know-it-all. As Naru watched her retreating figure he could only wish that he knew it all. If he did, then he could find the girl he came for and take her back to his home. He looked over at the calendar on his wall. 'Two years already. I have been searching the world for this girl. Mai is the closest lead that I have gotten so far, but is she is the hope of my homeland then my people are truly doomed.'
With that another knock came at the door, and Naru quickly took the cup and dismissed Mai before she had the chance to say anything. Looking slightly put out, she left quietly. In the time she had known her boss, it was clearly evident that when he got the look it was better to leave him alone. Despite Naru's comments, Mai was smarter than she looked. As a result, she knew that Naru was keeping a large secret. Unfortunately, all she could do was wait and hope that Naru told her in his own time.
Meanwhile Naru sat back and remembered the choices that had put him in his current situation. Just before he lost himself in the past he though in passing 'I wish I could tell Mai who I really am, but I don't know if she's the one yet.' With a sigh, the lone black swordsman lost himself in his past even as he was surrounded by a present that didn't really belong to him.
Disclaimer: I do not own Ghost Hunt. This is because the lawyers say it's illegal to commandeer other people's stories and make them your own. However, that is why we invented fanfictions!
This is my first try at trying something a little more descriptive. I would really appreciate the feedback so please read and leave a review. Thanks for reading!