Hello readers! Welcome to my first Shugo Chara! fanfic. I know I should be working on my Naruto one at this moment, BUT NEVER FEAR, it is going through some major re-vamping, but will be back in progress soon.
This is sort of the prologue of this fic, and is quite short. Many of my chapters will be fairly long. I hope you enjoy! Updates will be weekly, if reviews keep up. REMEMBER! Reviews=My will to keep writing!
I remembered the sound, so haunting and full of an undeniable longing for something more, but that is about the only thing I remembered after the mysterious dark of the small room took over me. I was not even sure what I was wearing, for the darkness that cloaked the room was as thick as molasses. But I knew that sound, the alluring creation of a bow being coaxed along the string of a violin. Possibly a Viola, I wasn't positive. I also knew the dull ache that seemed to cover my body like a second skin, making a fresh wave of agony wash over my body anytime I dared to wiggle an appendage.
'Where was I?'
I quickly tried to go over the last available memories that didn't include the overwhelming dark, or the steel-cold air that had me wishing for a woolen blanket to snuggle myself into. I vaguely remembered waking up in my own bed, readying for a day working at my grandparent's shrine, cleaning and setting up the little wards and charms they had for sale. It had been a slow day, that my brain had recollected, and when I wasn't otherwise preoccupied, I spent my time gazing off into the nearby trees, wondering what it would be like to soar through the green leaves, to see the patches dotted with rich gold and vibrant reds, the first taste of an extravagant display that would come with the cold winds of autumn.
"Watch it you little pest!" A nasal voice interrupted my peaceful -and wishful- thinking. I turned and squinted towards the path, just in time to see a boy, no older than nine, thrust his hands outward, causing the small girl in his way to go flying into the solid ground with an audible thud. I shot up instantly, an overwhelming need to protect the little girl making my body a puppet for the instinct to control. I found myself running over to gather the child in my arms. I cannot recall the exact words I spoke, or more possibly barked, at the rowdy boy, but he left with his figurative tail between his legs.
It was after that, when the memories started getting fuzzy.
I could see myself bandaging her knees up, as well as the palms of her hands. Trying to make her smile with silly stories I remember my own mother telling me. Drinking tea with her as she animatedly described the depth of her doll collection, and their names. But then, it all seemed to be blurred. It was there, I could feel it, like an itch my arms are just too short to reach. But the details of the memory were scattered. Was her hair brown, or black? Was she wearing a school uniform, or a small kimono? Had she started the process that all little children do, and had gaps where baby teeth had fallen out? I could not say.
I tired, without success, to lift my head up, or even roll over, to see if there might had been an inkling of light somewhere. Maybe a crack in the door frame, a loose window; anything to banish the curiosity and fear of what was, or could be, in that room. Why was I in such pain?
I tried to move again, and let out groan that was anything but quiet when my chest, the center of this inundate affliction, seared with pain. I smashed my eyes closed, trying to beat the discomfort with mental strength. My breath came out in gasping pants, which echoed around the room.
It was then I noticed something new. The stringed instrument had stopped. Now there was only the sound of slowly approaching feet. I was still breathing hard, the sound rough and alien compared to what had graced my ears before. A metallic clack, and the screech of metal sliding over metal. A square of light poured into my eyes, and I had to shield them from the unfamiliar lighting before I could even try to look out.
'It still hasn't worked. It's like she's resisting.' The voice was low, but distinctly female.
Resisting? What could I possibly be resisting in a situation such as this? I could hardly remember my current whereabouts, let alone resist whatever it is they were conducting while I was unconscious. I moved again, trying to get a glimpse of whoever was on the other side.
'Maybe it is because she is only hearing an echo of his song. Maybe it needs to be closer. Then, surely, the egg will respond. We will have a creation more obedient than Ikuto. Less resistant, and without much physical damage, we are hoping.' Another voice, this time male, spoke up. His voice was muffled by the door, but had an air of intelligence around him.
As their conversation went on, I stopped listening. I did not have the slightest clue about their discussion was, and listening to their words from then on would have been pointless.
My mind was reeling, still trying to figure out what exactly I had heard was. What egg? Who was this Ikuto character? I started to get slightly irritated. I hated having questions I could not answer. Especially about a situation as pressing as this.
My musings were once more interrupted by an overhead light coming on. I flinched, and my body instinctively tried to curl up, to protect itself from whatever suddenly spooked it. A whimper slipped through my lips, thought I couldn't hear it over the sound of shuffling feet. I turned over and glanced at the newcomers, ignoring the aches in my body. My eyes fluttered slightly, shedding their light sensitivity with every blink.
I did not notice the two in the white lab coats first. No, how could I have, when the oddest person I have yet to lay eyes on was standing not two feet away. I only noticed his eyes. They were glazed over and dull, the usual reflective light strangely absent in his amethyst eyes.
"Who…?" A voice that I later categorized as mine croaked out, hoarse because of its lack of use.
"Ah you're awake, how unfortunate." One of the personal in the lab coats, the female, said. "This could be quite painful." She informed me, writing something down on a clipboard. "Hit it." She spoke to someone out of view. I dimly heard a lever being pulled, and then the lost-eyed boy in front of me tensed. The pained expression that crossed his face made me want to jump up and fuss over him to figure out what the issue was. He then raised his hands, which I now noted where holding both a violin, and a bow, and began to play.
Instantly I was unable to move, lying stiff on my back as if I were a statue. And then I felt it. The burning, ripping feeling in my chest that felt like the claws of a little imp were tearing into my flesh to get to my heart. I vaguely felt something move against my chest, twitching, as if trying to get away from the feeling as well. I think I wailed. Screeched like a banshee trying to get away from a fire. I was not positive. I was focusing on the tune. Such lovely music, that contained so many secret longings in it, tears sprung to my eyes, and then cascaded over to flow like a river down my cheeks.
After some time, either ten seconds or ten hours I could not tell, the song stopped, and with it the searing pains. Ragged huffs that served for our breathing were the only sounds in the room. I looked over again at the boy. He was being supported, and was no longer conscious. And it was then I realized that he was doing this against his will. His wants and wishes were being blatantly ignored for the sake of whatever effect the music had on me. It was depressing, to say the least. Again, my mothering nature wanted me to reach out and hold him, to make all the evil go away, to be banished to the corners, never again to touch him. But I couldn't.
'I can't even help myself.' Was the thought that passed my mind before the world went black, extinguished like the flames of that boys will.