Love in the Land of the Rising Sun
(A/N: Okay, I'm sorry I had to delete this for a while, but I've decided to concentrate on only one story at a time. I've made some changes, but I'm always open to any and all ideas and suggestions. Even if I don't use an idea right away, I'll file it away for future use. And above all, (I can't stress this enough) REVIEW.)
Disclaimer: I don't own "Danny Phantom." I wish I did, but I don't.
Chapter 1
(A/N: For the purposes of this story, I've had to take some artistic liberties for various geographic and historical facts.)
April 3rd, 1603 A.D. -
It was clear night, and the H.M.S. Ignatius had just sailed into the Sea of Japan. On orders from the newly instated King James, this English ship had been ordered to make contact with the isolated Japanese, the first to try since the Portuguese had a century earlier.
On board this ship was a young, 18 year-old girl named Samantha (or Sam, as she preferred to be called) Manson. Her parents, fearing for her safety in the turbulent country that was England now that Queen Elizabeth had died, had sent her on a voyage under the care of her cousin, Jonathon, the ship's captain, until James could cement his control over the British Isles.
Sam sat on a barrel, her head resting on the railing, and stared out at the ocean. She sighed. This was not exactly her idea of a good time, but there was no arguing with her parents. Since she was stuck on the ship, she spent most of her time learning Japanese from the Portuguese manuscripts her cousin had given her.
Jonathon came up from below deck and sat next to Sam. "Feeling restless?" he asked her with a smile. "I am," she replied dryly, " How much longer until we reach Japan?" "Seven hours," he said tiredly, "If the weather stays its course. King James will be sending another ship to Japan in a few months to take up where we leave off."
Rubbing her head affectionately, Jonathon walked away to relieve the helmsman. Sam sighed again, more forlornly than before. She wasn't sure she even wanted to go back to England. What awaited her? An endless cotillion of parties, shallow and narrow-minded people, and (almost definitely) marriage to a man who was more-than-likely twice her age and that she didn't love.
But she supposed it didn't matter. She'd realized years ago that God didn't want her to be happy.
April 3rd, 10th year of the Empress Ishiyama -
In the small Japanese village of Ohara, in a comfortable inn called The Red Dragon, three samurai warriors sat at their table, drinking sake, Japanese rice wine.
(A/N: For those of you unfamiliar with Japanese custom, the family name comes before the individual name.)
In the left back corner, sat Bakusutaa Dashu, a 21 year-old samurai, and regarded as a thug and bully by some of his comrades-at-arms. He was considered an anomaly among his people due to his almost Nordic blond hair.
In the left front corner sat Dashu's manservant, Kwan. A 20 year-old slave acquired from Korea, he was not a samurai, but was a formidable martial artist in his own right.
In the right back corner sat Kumori Katsumoto, a 45 year-old samurai, and the veteran of several battles, having actually seen the Mongol Chinese slain by the kamikaze, the divine typhoon sent by the gods to protect Japan.
And lastly, in the right front corner, sat Fenton Daniro, youngest of his fellows at 19. Danny, as his closest friends called him, was considered even more of an anomaly than Dash, because he was a half-breed. His mother, Kafuman Maddi, was a Japanese noblewoman, but his father, Fenton Jakku, was an Ainu, one of the wild men who lived on the northern Japanese island of Hokkaido.
Danny had gained a reputation among his people for two reasons: his exceptional swordsmanship, and his incredible intuition, which was almost always accurate. Suddenly, that intuition began to warn him that something was amiss. "We must go to the coast," he said in his smooth voice. The others got up from the table and left the inn, following without a word.
Going to the stable out back, they mounted their horses, checked the seals on their armor and helmets, and began to ride. "Fenton-San, what is it?" asked Katsumoto, always the cautious one. "I'm not entirely certain," Danny replied as they rode, "But I believe that a gaijin ship is about to land on our shores."
Back on the H.M.S. Ignatius, the first mate, having drunk his body weight in rum, was unwisely smoking his pipe next the kegs of gunpowder used in the cannons. He attempted to stand, but stumbled and dropped his pipe.
BOOM!
Just as the samurai appeared on the beach, they say the whole ship go up in flames. Without a minutes hesitation, Danny threw off his helmet, unstrapped his sword, and dove into the water, swimming toward the ship to rescue who he could.
"Fenton, are you crazy?!" yelled Dashu at him as he swam. Danny didn't reply. After several tense minutes, Danny swam back to the beach, carrying the only survivor his intuition had told him off: A lovely young woman with raven-black hair and purple eyes.
(A/N: I think it's better than my first version of this fic, don't you? Please review.)
TO BE CONTINUED.
