Usual disclaimers apply--I don't own the Samurai Troopers. (Dang it...)
I wrote this earlier in the summer, having been inspired by the following two pictures (don't forget to take out the spaces:
http:// entertainment.webshots. com/photo /2061880940034140256wzdViV
http:// entertainment.webshots. com/photo /2408474460034140256EABgiZ
The pictures struck a chord in me and suddenly I felt bad for Touma. Unlike the other Troopers, there was no real way for him to connect with his element. I wondered what that would feel like for him and was sure it had to be lonely to an extent.
Thus the creation of this story. This was my first attempt at using the YST names and personalities, as well as trying to get into the Japanesy way of thinking and speaking that we seem to get in the series.
Fallen Star Rising was also an excuse for my desire to write a story about the comraderie and loyalty we see between Ryo and Touma while they are trying to rescue their friends in the second series. So without further adieu, I'll shut up now and get on with the story. It's a one-shot and complete. Enjoy:-)
Fallen Star Rising
It's at the forefront of my body's greatest desires and yet somehow, I'm still denied what it is that I want.
I want to sleep.
Sleep is precious, but never so much as when it can't be had. I know that firsthand. I'd rather I didn't.
For now I'm safe, but there's no way of knowing how long that will be the case. I tell my brain, "Sleep." It says, "Touma, you're mad." The yoroi laughs at us both. So here I lay, staring half-lidded at a sky that is neither familiar nor inviting. It makes me shudder and I wish I were back home, or at Nasutei's place, or even the school's rooftop where there are skies so much friendlier than those here. Really, anywhere but here would be good. Anywhere but this place, this predicament, would be fine with me.
Slowly we've been wearing down each other's nerves and patience during the past day. I guess the strain of constantly running and hiding can change two people's attitudes towards each other like that.
It's been too quiet. We need some excitement—a battle, an ambush, a death trap…anything will do at this point to wind us down a little. But really…Ryo's so stubborn. He has one speed—"Go"—and one personality setting: "Selfless hero." I don't say it in a bad way: his heart is appreciated by the others and myself. Can Ryo help it if he doesn't know his personality wheel is permanently stuck on one little click?
I say to him as we plan, "Slow down, we should think this through," and if I utter "trap", he bangs his fists and thrusts his nose to mine.
"So?" those blue eyes always challenge. "What of it? Seiji-tachi is counting on us."
We irk one another. Our minds tune to different frequencies. But I know we're both still faithful. He won't know rest until I've taken mine and vice-versa. My back is blanketed in battle with his own.
Amazing that we're like that at all. I'm not even sure when his birthday is. I guess I've never found the time to ask between Arago's two challenges against the Ningenkai.
A short while ago I'd never even heard of this guy, much less met him or his quirky tiger and scalding Rekka yoroi. A short while ago….
A short while ago I was recuperating from a battle with demons, resting in a bed that wasn't even mine but that my body certainly was not going to turn down, even if it was in the home of a (nearly) complete stranger.
A short while ago I was drifting in space.
A short while ago I was saving the butt of some strange kid my age and who was fighting in red undergear.
A short while ago I was fighting acne and struggling through my first crush.
A short while ago…I was normal.
How astounding what a brief shift in time can do.
I hate the sky here. It never changes and it's always so cold—always. Mortal clothing is worthless here. Damn yoroi…can't get rid of it, can't even take it off. I can't even find any refreshing strength or familiar comfort in the blanket that makes up the Youjakai skyline. There's nothing friendly to be had there…or here for that matter.
Without giving away my wakeful nature, I turn towards Ryo's hunched form. Our hiding place is barely big enough for the two of us; we're like sardines with a grudge packed too tightly together with nowhere to go. He's snapping his fingers without putting pressure on the digits. All I hear is the "shss" noise made from the sliding of flesh against flesh. He's wearing his undergear, but it doesn't make any noises. Occasionally a small flame leaps into existence following one of the "shsses". Ryo takes more comfort than pride in knowing he can conjure up his element at will. It's obvious by the small points of light in his eyes.
This is something new: Ryo's never called fire to himself like this before. I envy him. I want to call my sky back. Those sparkling constellations know me as well as I know them, even though—unlike the others—I can't visit the real birthplace of my yoroi at will. Only in my dreams can I touch those pinpricks of light.
It's lonely. Sometimes I feel that my companions' company isn't enough to satisfy me. Not really….
"Why aren't you asleep?"
"Why are you wasting precious energy?"
His fingers hesitate minutely before snapping again. "Doesn't waste," I hear him murmur testily. The reflection of the fire lives and breathes in his eyes; it never dies. He can have it night or day; my stars feed me only at night.
Carefully I sit up, mindful of the low clearance of our hole that Ryo's shorter frame can better manage. Byakuen is still gone.
When the fire comes again I wave a hand before the flame. I have less control over my element and only a weak, strangled breeze wafts through, but it's still enough to snuff the light out.
"It could attract attention."
"I doubt it."
He's right: a flame as small as his creation wouldn't attract any attention, but I still frown, still perturbed from our earlier verbal scuffle on how to proceed.
"Touma?"
I don't look. I'm staring out of the entrance of our hiding place, watching the sky hungrily.
"It must be lonely."
"Nani?"
Ryo doesn't meet my eyes. He stares forlornly at his palms like he is unsure what to make of them. I can see even in the murky light of the Youjakai that his hair is matted and dirt and sweat have mixed to darken his already tanned skin.
"Seiji has the Pinnacles to visit and light can always be found. Shin has the whirlpools and Shu has his mountains: water and earth usually aren't hard to find. Fuji-san is even an open invitation for me whenever I feel the need, but—"
He furrows his brow and brings his palm nearly to his nose as he studies the metal-encased skin.
Suddenly I know what he is referring to. Every one of my comrades can readily visit the birthplace of their yoroi and element, but I—
"Space is hard to reach."
"Yes, space is a difficult place to travel to, except in my dreams."
There's a hand suddenly on my shoulder and Ryo is smiling again.
"Sky Dreamer."
"Yes."
He's still smiling, trying to be supportive, but I can see it's strained. I drop my hands into my lap, gazing on as my fingers twist amongst themselves of their own will.
"I want to be…back up there. It's like I'm a falling star dying slowly here on Earth and steadily losing my light. Falling stars do that, you know. They die…and wink out."
"Not this one."
The hand on my shoulder squeezes and releases, falling away, but Ryo's blue eyes are still on me.
"This falling star neither fades nor dies. It never will."
He looks away finally and out through the opening of our temporary haven, presumably setting his sights on Arago's castle in the distance. Our friends are there, somewhere, waiting.
I don't feel the tension that was between Ryo and I just a few moments ago, the suffocating presence having faded with the breeze of Tenku and flame of Rekka. Ryo is quietly thoughtful again and the familiar, dull light of worry has pervaded his sight once more.
My own eyes see the land and sky and all the struggles that lay before us, but I realize it doesn't have to be so daunting if I don't allow it to be. We may damn the yoroi for the hell they've forced us to endure, but we should thank them as well for what else they have given and done. They made friends out of a sparking flame, a light in the darkness, a roaring wave, a mound of earth, and a falling star, none of which will ever succumb to the threat of defeat or despair.
Least of all this sparking flame or falling star.
Five mystical yoroi.
Five young souls.
What were the Fates thinking when they put the two together?
I think they were thinking about friends and companionship, loyalty and devotion. Maybe even saving the world—a time or two.
I don't know. I don't really know what the Fates were thinking. I do know what I wish to believe though, and now, as I gaze upon it, the Youjakai sky doesn't matter so much anymore. Because I know now that even if this falling star loses its light, it has one little flame at least—one little flame with a wheel stuck on "selfless hero"—that won't let it die. It's that little flame that propels this fallen star rising…
End