Breaking Prophecy Chapter the First, a prince of tennis fanfic

Breaking Prophecy

By Nicotine Gum
Standard disclaimers apply.

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Sometimes you alternate between two different dimensions, the conscious and sub-conscious. Often these trips to the subconscious occur without ourselves seemingly realizing that it had ever occurred. But the soul remembers, and it never forgets. The soul holds everything in its memory, feeding off it such as if it were supplements to its existence, and truly, it shapes our spirit, moulds our individuality, and creates our identity. The realm in which our inner selves congregate occurs without seeming logic or reason- circumstances are such that certain souls connect, and form strong bonds that can be likened to the formation of thin, unbreakable yet invisible strings between them, even if these souls had never chanced each other in the conscious state. Perhaps their paths may have crossed, once, and if the connection is strong, there would be attraction, undeniable, sudden, puzzling attraction, that would drive these souls toward each other. And the soul is prone to weakness and vulnerability, but it is not easily fooled. No amount of logic and reason can even attempt to explain this peculiar aspect of the human spirit, although the age old belief of reincarnation in the continuous wheel of life might offer some vague suggestions.

Individuals might have formed strong kinships in their previous life, and the memories forever etched into the soul, so that it is carried forward to the next life, although the soul may reside in a different body, yet the body is simply a vacant shell, lifeless until a spirit enters and takes control. But different bodies attract different spirits, and the strong enter the powerful, although unfortunate accidents happen from time to time where the spirit is forced to reside in an inappropriate anatomy because it cannot escape from where it entered. These chance mistakes are fated however, and the outcomes foretold by destiny. In such instances there would be complications, as such is expected from unfortunate circumstances, but if the will is strong, and the bonds connecting the souls even stronger, then it is possible that the soul might be saved, and spared, otherwise it is condemned forever, until another comes to free it.

It is this liberation of souls that we sometimes call 'love', although our superficial intelligence could hardly even begin to understand the mystifying wonders of the spirit. To describe the emancipation of the soul from its state of proscription as a form of emotion, no matter how strong the word is, no matter if it represents the strongest of all emotions, is foolhardy, childish and the gravest error that could possibly be made. Although, it is not to say that love is indeed the most powerful emotion, because it is distinct, and its influence spans beyond most, but it is truly up to the individual to determine its power, and the span of its control. It is an unreliable thing, unreliable because it is subjective, and in some cases, completely unrequited. The reliability of this…love is almost as dependable as the possibility of having two souls connect, converge and hold communion because said souls recognize the tautness of the strings that hold their souls together and are able to bring it to the conscious level, that is to say, it is completely unreliable.

The possibility of such an occurrence is perhaps one in several hundred thousands, but in the rare instance that it does occur, then it would be magical, for all parties involved. It would be like the wandering vagabond, finally returning home.

The pull was so strong that he was practically surging forward, and all the pain he had been feeling was pushed to the back of his mind. This was more important. This was what he had been questing for. This was the reason he'd ever agreed to partake in such a reckless scheme. This was what he needed to see.

It was not too far now, he could sense the tremors in the wind, the rippling of a power so great that it caused his skin to tingle in the most unimaginable way. And he was not a sensitive. If he was being affected so, then likely, the other was experiencing worse. Much, much worse.

In his head he screamed. He screamed as he'd never screamed before. In his mind's eye, he saw his soul violently thrashing about, attempting to pull out of his body. The pull of that magic was so strong it was ripping him in half. He could not possibly get any closer, no, it would be foolish given the delicate state he was in, always in, yet he could not resist. He had to get closer, so much closer. He had to witness it himself, because this was what he'd trained for all his life. To destroy the source of that power.

Even if it cost him their lives.

"Are you okay mister?"

Stifling a groan, he cracked open one eye, sitting up groggily in what he assumed to be a bed, it being comfortable and all. He nodded dumbly, wincing slightly at the pain the simple act generated.

"Hmm…you sure don't look okay to me. Open your mouth and say 'ah'."

Obediently he complied, opening his mouth slightly just to have something stuck into it. Fully awake now, his eyes fluttered open in surprise, and, for the first time, he took in his surroundings. It wasn't quite what he'd expected, although, it was close enough.

"Who you?" were the first intelligent words that managed to come out of his mouth.

"Eiji," a familiar, muted voice chided him gently, "that's not very polite."

He immediately turned to the source. His companion was perched on a chair, looking very comfortable and at ease with the situation. Opening his mouth to reply, the words died on his lips as the thing in his mouth 'beep'-ed and the unfamiliar person reached out to take it, his small face breaking into a smile as he read that…thing.

"Yokata naa! Your fever's broken! You had us all so worried you know!" he scolded him in an almost comical manner.

"But who are you?" undeterred, Eiji pressed on.

"Mou! After all I've done, a thank you would've been nice." The boy pouted, slightly put off.

"Thank you," he quickly said, remembering his manners, "but I still don't know who you are."

He made a face, then smiled.

"I'm Taichi. Guardian of the stone."

"EHHHHHHH?!!" the boy cringed as his ear drums threatened to explode. The young man before him gaped, open-mouthed, after letting loose a very startled cry that jolted everything awake anything that was sleeping at that time.

"Shh mister," he whipped his head around in alarm, hoping they hadn't roused anything with the outburst, "it's nighttime. Everyone's sleeping."

Copper eyes blinked and the owner protested. "But we're deep in the middle of some ravine, lost in the middle of the forest, stranded in the middle of nowhere! There's no one around!" then he blinked again. "Or not," he added, after a brief pause.

Taichi flashed him a toothy grin. "Well it looks like you're really okay like you said." He looked around. "But…" he trailed, "I haven't got much to offer."

Eiji's companion, who had been silent all along, finally spoke up. "It is more than enough, thank you."

"A pleasure!" he beamed, although his expression fell upon noting Eiji's suspicious gaze on him. "What?"

"You're the guardian of that stone?" he asked, not bothering to disguise the skepticism in his voice.

"Um…yes?" The boy had no idea where this conversation was leading to.
"Nya Fuji!" Eiji scrambled over to his companion, "is he really the guardian?"

A soft chuckle was his reply, then, "If he says he is then he must be."

Eiji's eyes widened almost comically. "But…he's so small!"

Taichi's face fell. "That's what everyone keeps telling me," he said quietly, almost sadly, "But it's not like I asked for this body!"

Alarmed, Eiji quickly sought to remedy his mistake. "No, no! I was just surprised that's all! I mean, I didn't expect the guardian to be so…" he trailed, unsure of whether to continue. A gentle voice broke into his thoughts.

"Power is measured not by size, is it not?"

"It's not?" Eiji echoed, totally clueless.

"Iya." Fuji smiled at the forlorn expression on the little guardian's face. "Taichi-kun, you should know that better than most, ne?"

The boy looked up slowly, his gaze meeting the smiling ones of Fuji's, and gradually, a smile spread across his child-like features. "Hai!" he agreed wholeheartedly.

"Ne oyaji," the man turned at the sound of the voice, "I think there's something wrong with this."

The boy stared dubiously at the script he held in his hand, then at the book. "There's a page missing. It doesn't make sense otherwise."

"Hmmm? Reading as you copy? I'm impressed kiddo – you're learning well. Of course," he added with a mischievous gleam in his eye, "you've got a good teacher."

"Che." The boy ignored the statement, choosing instead to focus on the problem in his hand. "Oyaji, I don't know if - - " the rest of his sentence was cut off as they both heard hurried footsteps heading in their direction.

"Che! Here already! And we haven't even been for an hour!" the man cursed, "Chibi, put them back, we're leaving."

He sighed, and, with a flick of his small wrist, the books that were scattered on the floor returned to the shelves as they had been before. "Saa… iku you."

The guards stormed the library just as they vanished, leaving no trails in their wake, none that was visible at least. But to a sorcerer, as the Captain of the Guard stepped forward from among them, they had left the biggest clue.

"Oyaji," golden eyes narrowed in disapproval, "that was uncalled for."

"Saa…heh heh…" the older man laughed, rubbing the back of his head, "you think so?"

"Now they'll know who we are."

The hand fell from behind his head and the normally cheeky face turned uncharacteristically solemn. "Ne Ryoma," he stated, bending down to look the young boy in the eye, "everything happens for a reason."

Puzzled, he could only return the stare, wondering briefly if his old man had bumped his head sometime during materializing. Opening his mouth to voice his thoughts, the words died on his lips as the man straightened, then stretched himself languidly, his expression back to normal. "Saa…let's see what we've got." He motioned for Ryoma to follow him to their cellar, and the boy, still mildly confused at what just happened, followed.

"Oi, oi, seishounen, what's this?" Nanjirou held up the piece of parchment to the light, squinting his eyes to look at the nearly illegible penmanship.

"The scripture, what else?" was the monotonous reply.

"I can't read a thing."

"Humph." Ryoma turned away.

"Are you sure this is it?" he asked again, turning the parchment upside down, back to front, moving it further and back, all to try to make out the writing.

"I copied it exactly."

"Are you sure?" he repeated.

"Yes." The boy sighed, "By hand. Using the raven's feather."

"Sou…"

"Powdered charcoal with a little gunpowder and limestone for the ink."

"Sou…"

There was a protracted silence before one of them snapped. "Magnify!" he called out, quite irately.

"Ooooohhhh…it looks much better now, thank you!" with that, the elder of the Echizen began his perusal, pointedly ignoring the glares directed his way.

"Saa…" the elder Echizen grinned sheepishly moments later. "I think we're missing some parts."

His son maintained the bored expression he usually wore. "I told you so," he answered, his tone completely not backing his words.

"Well I guess we'll just have to make do with what we have then, ne?"

"Easy for you to say," he muttered. It didn't take a genius to figure out that when the older male said 'we' what he actually meant was 'dumpitallonthelittlemidgetsohecouldsneakaquickdrinkatthelocalpub'. Ryoma sighed. He really had to do something about his idiot father.

Said idiot father gave a loud yawn and stretched himself, knocking the paraffin lamp over in the process. Seemingly oblivious to the accident, he stood up and calmly sauntered out the door, waving off his son's annoyed protests at having to clear up after him all the time.

"Figure it out won't you chibi? I'm going out."

Ryoma was tempted to conjure an immobilization spell just for the hell of it but decided on second thought that it really wasn't worth the trouble. He sighed, turning to the half of the room that was going up in smoke and mumbled the first thing that came to mind. A quick fix, but effective nevertheless.

At least, when he was the one using it.

"There is no doubt who was here," he stated smugly.

"And who was it pray tell," a sarcastic voice shot back, "I'm positively dying to know."

Two sets of eyes glared at each other across the vast hall that was the King's conference room. Not that it was actually a room as it was suspiciously lacking in furniture- hence the need for all to stand, excluding the King of course, but only because he wasn't there.

"Shishido-san," a hand placed firmly on his shoulder restrained him from egging on the other, "yamete kudasai."

"Humph." Brown eyes flashed with intense dislike as the owner muttered none too quietly, "It's not like I was going to start a fight with that loser anyway."

Mizuki straightened abruptly, much to the alarm of the others present. "What did you say?!"

"Nothing, I said nothing," Shishido dismissed him with a small flick of his hand, before turning to Kajimoto. "He's starting to hear things. Get him replaced with someone halfway sane at least."

The military strategist bristled as the snub hit him full force. "How dare you!" he screeched, making to lunge at the offender. But strong arms held him down and away, fortunately for his sake. Strategist or not, he was no match for Shishido when it came to hand-to-hand combat.

"Oi Kajimoto. You've got a fag on your team." He continued, noting Mizuki's violent disagreement out of the corner of his eye.

"He's on your team too, Shishido-san," Ohtori supplied, "If he's on Kajimoto-san's team, then he's on yours as well."

"Ahh damn. Well someone do something about that mental case. He's bringing us all shame," Shishido gloated inwardly at how successful his goading of the emotional strategist was.

"Shishido-san…" Ohtori began warningly, shaking his head in disapproval.

The older boy shrugged. "Well, you weren't exactly being helpful."

"Saa…I guess you're right. But I thought it was something I had to point out. After all- -" he was cut off by Kajimoto who stepped between Mizuki and Shishido, separated though they were.

"Enough with the trivialities. Mizuki, who was it?"

The tension that was had been there previously dissipated at the authoritative voice of their commander. Mizuki stopped struggling and the hold on him was immediately withdrawn. He looked up to regard the leader seriously. When he spoke, his tone held conviction and certainty.

"It was Echizen. Of that I am sure."

"Fuji!" A sleepy eye cracked open blearily. "Nya, Fuji!" Eiji shook his friend roughly, hissing quietly at the same time.

"What is it Eiji?" the blue-eyed boy sat up, fully awake, his eyes completely adjusted to the darkness.

"It's not safe here. We should go," he hissed, eyes darting about the room, noting every movement of the shadows. "There's a…I feel a bad vibe here. The boy…that chibi, we need to get away."

"Why?" the other countered quite reasonably.

"You don't trust me nya Fuji?"

"Iya, it's not that…" when he saw the panicked look in Eiji's eyes, he conceded. "You've never been wrong Eiji, and I've never doubted you before. I guess I won't start now. Saa, give me a minute to get ready then."

"A minute's too long nya! We need to be far away by then!" the redhead was practically dancing from toe to toe in his frantic excitement.

"Then far away we'll be," Fuji beamed as a bright light engulfed the room.

Taichi stuck his bottom lip out in a petulant manner when he felt a sudden surge of force disrupt the equilibrium of the atmosphere. "Mou," he sulked, "and they didn't even wait till he got home! Now what am I going to tell him?"

"What was it Eiji?" Fuji asked when they materialized at the edge of the forest, far, far away from the cottage. His companion furrowed his brows as he stared intently at his hands, palms faced upwards.

"I don't know…there was just something about the whole place…" he looked up to meet Fuji's gaze, "and it wasn't good. There was powerful magic there, dark magic, and the boy…" Eiji shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, "…the power of the stone, it's clouded now, unclean," he finished, looking troubled somewhat.

"Sou ka." Fuji turned from him and strode towards a patch of barren earth where he bent to scoop a fistful with his right hand. Running the soil through his fingers, he felt the familiar tingling sensation of the Source, but realized that it was weak. There was nearly no magic left in the ground. He straightened up while letting the powdery, almost ashen soil fall to the ground. "The magic here has been contaminated, likely, the Stone has been claimed by a darker power," he spoke softly, his voice lilting and sorrowful in the quiet night air.

Eiji traced circles on the ground with the tip of his shoe. The outline glowed faintly, before completely fading out. "Magic here is weak," he noted in agreement.

"Then we must do what we have to," Fuji whispered almost regretfully.

Eiji bit his lip, not daring to voice his protest, but his friend felt his reluctance.

"It is what we have sworn to do, is it not?" he reminded the other gently of their oath, "And the Lord does not take too kindly to those who break it."

"But the Lord is dead, Fuji, everyone knows it," Eiji finally spoke, "he died in the Last Battle. The reason why we are on this mission is because we want to revive him. If we fail, then we fail to restore him to life. That is all there is to it. There is no reason to seek this…destruction." He paused, watching the other warily, "I have no wish to meddle with the affairs of humans."

"It is the only way," Fuji told him, "there is no other."

"I will not be responsible for their deaths Fuji," he told the other vehemently, "I will not play any part in their destruction!"

"And so we go our separate ways," Fuji said sadly, "is that what you're saying Eiji?"

The sensitive struck out at the other, but a hand grasped his firmly before it connected with his face.

"Eiji. Don't." There was no anger in the tone, nothing but sadness. Eiji yanked his hand away angrily.

"You don't understand!" he shouted, "I can't do this!"

"You can and you must."

"I will not be responsible for their deaths Fuji," he repeated, eerily calm all of a sudden, "I've killed too many as it is."

"A few more will make no difference," his friend told him, equally calmly.

Eiji's blazing eyes met Fuji's calm blue ones and stayed. "It will if I kill another kindred spirit Fuji. You know it will." Fuji looked away sharply, something he rarely ever did, but Eiji's words struck a chord in him, and it stung.

"Then we have to take that chance," he replied coldly.

"Leaving things to chance is sheer foolishness Fuji," the smaller boy laughed bitterly, "we've all learned that firsthand." Abruptly, the laughter stopped and he looked seriously at Fuji. "I will not risk damning another soul. I will not."

"Interesting," Ryoma murmured, peering closer at the article in his hands. The scripture was actually an incantation, one that was incomplete. What he had in his possession were broken verses pieced together at random, and it made no sense at all. "The Gems that lie as hidden stones, Canst be found but by magic old…" he trailed off realizing that the two lines held no connection at all with the rest. In fact, it sounded suspiciously like…

"The Ancient Scripture…" he breathed in wonder, "but what is it doing here?" Eyes scanning swiftly through the lines again, he paused right at the end of a stanza just before the part of the Scripture started. "From Long Ago you were bound to me…" he read aloud, even more confused now than before. "It doesn't make sense!" he growled in frustration. There was so many things that were missing he couldn't even try to arrange them in a logical manner. He noted wearily the severe pounding in his head and concluded that he must have stayed up the whole night. Again. While that idiotic father of his got himself stoned drunk in the village bar. Again. The barman would probably be knocking on the door anytime now, the unconscious drunkard in tow, and remind him of the bills that were chalking up under his name. HIS name! He wasn't even old enough to drink damn it! Ryoma kicked at a stool on his way out, all thoughts of getting any sleep gone. This would be the fourth day straight he went without any shut-eye.

Ryoma growled when he heard the hard rapping on the door and picked up his pace. And about time too, he thought savagely, throwing the door open to have a stinking father deposited in his arms with the usual glare from the bartender. Idly, he wondered if he should seriously consider running away as he dragged the dead weight into the house.

Shishido was fuming. He hadn't been able to sleep a wink at all that night because someone had decided to pull a prank on him. He had a pretty good guess who that someone was, and boy was he going to get a thrashing. Nobody levitated his bed except on his command. Nobody.

He scowled all through breakfast when the chambermaid appeared to chase him out of his room so she could proceed with her daily cleaning, and when he was ushered to the feasting room where Ohtori and Kajimoto were deep in discussion about…something. They ignored his entrance, and his presence for a full five minutes and only turned to him in surprise when they heard a low throaty sound emanate from his throat.

"Shishido-san," Ohtori greeted him sounding very surprised, "you're up unusually early today."

He scowled darkly at the younger boy. "I couldn't sleep," he answered, voice dripping heavily with sarcasm.

The silver-haired boy maintained a surprised expression. "Why not?"

"Because someone put a spell on my bed," his eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Oh." Was all the other said.

"Well," Kajimoto began awkwardly, "please try not to maim Mizuki-san. I need his help with some things later."

"I will KILL him," Shishido hissed.

Ohtori winced. "Shishido-san, please refrain from any form of violence. I understand that you're a combat specialist and you've been raised with violence in your nature, but it would be best if you tried to resolve this peacefully," he reasoned, "and Mizuki-san is not unreasonable. I'm sure if both of you talked we could sort everything out."

Shishido scoffed. "Him? Reasonable? And I'm a Mage."

"Shishido-san, you shouldn't make fun of such things!" Ohtori gasped. The older boy only snorted derisively in answer. Kajimoto frowned.

"That's enough," he told them, "Shishido I need you take some of the guards out to the village. Mizuki says," here he pointedly ignored the growl that the other boy gave, "Echizen lives in the dilapidated house near the local tavern."

"You want me to arrest him?" Shishido asked in surprise, "But isn't that Ohtori's job?"

"I need Ohtori here."

"What about Marui?"

"He isn't back from his task yet, and he doesn't do arrests," Kajimoto answered flatly.

"Neither do I." He pointed out.

"It's a simple task, Shishido. Just take the guards, they'll know what to do."

"I'm not doing this for the fag," he protested in earnest.

The Captain's eyes narrowed. "You are doing this because it is an order, Shishido."

The boy snorted. "Yeah, and I'm not a soldier and I don't take orders from you."

"Shishido-san…" Ohtori began warningly.

"I don't have to do this Ohtori," he told the other lazily, before meeting the Captain's gaze, "but I will. You owe me, Kajimoto."

The brunette nodded in acknowledgement. "I will bear that in mind."

"So I take some guards and storm the village? That it?" Shishido asked as Ohtori led him down the hall.

The younger boy shrugged. "I guess. But not the village. Just the house."

"Sounds fun," he replied sarcastically, "wish I had your job."

Ohtori winced. "It's different without the King I guess. Kajimoto-san's under a lot of pressure…the least I can do is handle all the more trivial affairs."

"By arresting petty thieves?" Shishido snorted derisively, "A fine job for a sub-captain of the King's Guard."

Ohtori winced more visibly at the remark. "It's the least I could do."

"Yeah," Shishido agreed, "the least."

The other boy looked troubled as he met the other's gaze. "Shishido-san, there really is nothing I can do about it. With Marui-san away at battle and the King gone, Kajimoto-san's got his hands full."

"What does that have to do with anything?" he asked, "What does any of that have to do with you having to do such a lowly job?"

"Well, I…" Ohtori looked down at his feet, "Momoshiro-kun isn't here to do his job, and I haven't found someone to replace him. I have to take responsibility somehow. Shishido-san…" his voice lowered to a whisper and Shishido had to strain his ears to catch the words, "…please understand."

The other only humph-ed in response and they continued the journey in silence.

Ryoma sensed something amiss. There was his father, sprawled over the sofa, deep in his drunken slumber, but there was something wrong with that scene. He couldn't sense his father's presence, but when he took the other's pulse, nothing seemed to be wrong with the body. It was as if… his eyes narrowed. Trust that stupid father of his to take off to some spiritual realm and leave him to deal with the mess he'd created. What did I do to deserve this? He wondered not for the first time. Correction- what did I do to deserve a useless father? He scrubbed at the stone floors furiously. Why me? He asked no one in particular. Okasan, when you died, couldn't you have taken me with you? A knock on the door startled him out of his reverie.

"Who is it?" he called out, too lazy to get up and answer the door just then.

"The King's Guards," an authoritative voice announced, "Open up."

Ryoma scrambled to his feet in haste and practically threw open the door. He was greeted by the sight of four armor-clad men, and one without- he must be the Captain, Ryoma thought immediately.

"Sir?" he bowed as he had been taught.

"Where's that scum?" the leader asked, stepping into the house without waiting for invitation, "I'm here to take him away."

"Away to where sir?" Ryoma asked, the politeness of his tone sounding completely forced. The leader threw a glance at him and motioned for him to stand up.

"What you bowing for?" he asked gruffly, "Flattered as I am, I'm not the King."

"Of that I am aware sir," Ryoma answered, straightening up slowly. He stared at the taller figure with some puzzlement. "Neither are you the Captain."

"Damn right I'm not," he scoffed, "I'd be horrified if anyone mistook me for Kajimoto. Where's Echizen?"

"I am sir," Ryoma admitted awkwardly. The other threw him an impatient glare.

"Not you boy, your old man."

"Oh." Ryoma pointed to the unconscious figure, lying prone on his back. "What did he do this time sir?"

Shishido blinked. "You mean this isn't the first time?"

The small boy shook his head. "Not at all. We've had Ohtori-san come by plenty of times before."

"Your dad's a regular at the palace?" he asked in disbelief, "Well I'll be damned. No one said anything like that before."

"What is he in for this time?" Ryoma asked out of curiosity. "Sir," he added hastily, suddenly remembering his manners.

"Beats me," Shishido shrugged, "I'm just doing them all a favour and picking him up." Ryoma looked at him oddly and he shrugged his shoulders, "Look, kid, do I look like a soldier to you?"

"…I don't think so?" Ryoma answered carefully, well aware that the wrong answer might land him in the same ship his father was in.

"Good. 'Cos I'd kill myself if I ever looked like one." At the curious gaze Ryoma threw him, he explained, "I don't have to announce myself to some kid like you but I will. I'm Shishido Ryo, of the Assassin's Guild."

Ryoma blinked. Twice. Then he tried not to gape. "A-Assassin's Guild sir?" he stammered.

"Yeah. Got a problem with that?" he challenged, motioning for the guards to take the older Echizen.

"Not at all sir," Ryoma answered quickly. What was the leader of the famed Assassin's Guild doing here? He wondered.

He must have voiced his thought aloud from the scowl that creased the sharp features. "I told you, I'm doing Kajimoto a favour."

"Aa…" Ryoma nodded.

"And Ohtori too. It gets me kind of sad seeing him handle all these lowly affairs," Shishido grumbled, more to himself than to Ryoma, "such a disgrace." He looked up at Ryoma suddenly. "Well, that's all I guess. Am I supposed to read the stinking drunk his rights or something?" he asked.

Ryoma shook his head. "No, I've never heard anything like that being done sir."

"Good. 'Cos it'll be such an insult to have to explain things to people when they know they've had it coming." Ryoma watched as the guards hauled his father away. Shishido nodded slightly in his direction. "Take care of yourself kiddo. I don't think your old man's coming back soon."

Ryoma shrugged. It wasn't as if his 'old man' actually took care of anything at all. Quite the opposite in fact. He watched as the five-men party left the street, his father in tow. Stupid oyaji, he thought absently, what trouble did you get into this time?

Mizuki glared at Shishido when the other made his entry into the King's chamber, which the other pointedly ignored.

"I got you the troublemaker like you wanted," he said instead to Kajimoto, "but it looks like he's out cold."

Kajimoto immediately got to his feet. "Is there a pulse?" he asked.

"Yes?" Shishido replied, quite puzzled, "There isn't supposed to be one?"

"Cold?" he shot back.

"What?"

"Cold," Kajimoto answered impatiently, "is he cold?"

"I don't know, like I said he's out cold so he can't complain." The assassin was very confused now.

"I meant the body!" Kajimoto sighed in exasperation, "Is his body cold?"

"Oh." Shishido shrugged. "Don't know. Didn't touch it. He reeks, why should I?"

Kajimoto gave a long suffering sigh. "Bring him in," he motioned to the guards who obeyed immediately.

Mizuki stared long and hard at the seemingly lifeless body. "He's not in there," he told Kajimoto finally.

"Again?" the Captain of the Guard couldn't help but growl in frustration. "Every time he pulls off this stunt. Every time!"

Ohtori poked at the body curiously. "How can you tell, Mizuki-san?"

Shishido grunted. "Yeah, how can you tell, wuss?"

Mizuki's eyes slanted towards his nemesis, but he bit back a retort. "I've learned a little from Yagyuu." The Seer was a powerful one, and well respected, but he chose few students and taught little. Mizuki was one of the few people he was acquaintances with, and so the Strategist had the privilege of consulting the other for help.

"I see…" Ohtori scrutinized the slack-jawed expression on the man, "He smells…different."

Mizuki nodded, "That's because he's probably drunk on not just alcohol."

"What do you mean?" Kajimoto demanded.

"I can't say yet," he told the other, "I'll have to talk to Yagyuu about this." Here he looked right at Ohtori, "Ohtori-kun," his voice lowered, almost to a death whisper, "the prophecy must be fulfilled."

"Tilla sorcerer with magic strong, Casts the spell that ends it all…" Ryoma whispered, the breeze carrying his words away into the night. He gazed up at the crescent moon, and the distinct lack of stars in the sky. "But what does the Ancient Scripture have to do with the verse?" he frowned at the crescent shape, "Why are you hiding them?" he demanded, "It's dark without them."

Dark clouds gathered and swirled around the moon, hiding it from his vision, then slowly, the stars appeared, one by one, shining brilliantly as they came. Ryoma smiled. "That's better."

He had always found it easy to control nature. It was a gift he'd been blessed with, his mother had told him before, before she'd died, and it made him very special. No one else could talk to nature the way he could, and no one else could command it, the way he could. Ryoma didn't know what was so special about that- he could make the sun dim and the stars brighten, and he could make the waves stop its motion- big deal. What he knew was that he had a long way to go before he could become a full-fledged Mage, as his stupid father often reminded him all too gleefully, and that just plain sucked. He was probably the only person his age who still wasn't a Mage. God, he was eighteen already! Eighteen! How much longer did he have to wait? He had a sneaking suspicion that if it wasn't for that idiotic oyaji of his, he would've been titled a Mage a long time ago. If only his old man didn't get into so much trouble with the King's Guards…

Which brought another frown to his lips. What did he meddle in this time? He'd smelled the ether immediately, although slightly obscured by the stench of all that alcohol. Whatever it was, it was plain to him that the old man had no intention of coming back anytime soon. Which left him to solve the puzzle on his own. Great, when he needed the moron most, he decided to take off. Ryoma cursed angrily under his breath. One day, he swore, when he learned the trick of getting into the realm, he would hunt his troublesome father down. Oh, he would bring him down. But for now, he turned regretfully to the parchment on his table, he had this verbal labyrinth to solve.

Nanjirou whooped loudly when he recognized a familiar aura in the distance. Grinning widely, he made his way towards the blinding white light.

"…and the prophecy must be fulfilled he said," Ohtori finished, wringing his hands in the air. Yanagi nodded in understanding.

"I see. Yagyuu has foreseen this, no doubt," he noted warily, "and he has warned Mizuki."

"We must do something Yanagi-san," Ohtori told him worriedly, "I don't know what's going to happen but we must do something!"

Yanagi shook his head slowly at the other. "There is nothing we can do. It has been preordained this, and nothing we do will change anything. The cycle will repeat itself and claim what it demands."

"History will repeat itself?" Ohtori asked in panic, "The prophecy…it will happen a second time? But that's impossible! The Scripture says that when the curse is broken, then peace will reign! You know it does!"

"Parts of the Ancient Scripture have been lost, as you well know. No one knows for sure what will happen, but we can be certain that something will happen. This we all know, Ohtori-kun." He had his eyes closed, and the serene expression remained on his face. "The Gems have fallen into darkness, and the magic that runs through the Earth is weak. There are wars and catastrophes everywhere. You know what that means, Ohtori-kun."

"It is a sign," the other answered softly, staring glumly ahead, "the end of the World will come again."

"Yes," Yanagi agreed, "but the Three Prophecies- our purpose is only to observe, and occasionally, advice. What happens to the World is a matter of little concern to us because our existence is not dependent on it. However…" here he fell silent, unable to continue.

"Yanagi-san," Ohtori prodded, "what is it?"

The Prophecy looked up at the young man before him, and replied, in a voice that was unnaturally sad, "I shouldn't say this, it might be against the Rules, but I don't see the harm in telling you – there is nothing in your power to change any of this after all," he hesitated before continuing, "the Realms will be breached, and there will be turmoil."

Ohtori's eyes widened, "Breached? What does that mean Yanagi-san? How will they be breached?"

"That is all I can say."

"But Yanagi-san, that doesn't help any! How will we know when the Realms will be breached? Can they be breached?" he asked, his voice rising quickly in panic.

"I am not allowed to say any more. Any more, and I would have broken a Rule." Yanagi's form started to dim and fade, and Ohtori rose to his feet in a hurry.

"Yanagi-san! Matte, onegai! Yanagi-san!"

But the form that had been solid mere seconds ago vaporized into the air, leaving nothing to remind the world of its presence.

"I still don't get it," he growled angrily, "this sucks."

"Perhaps," a voice piped up from under the table, "you should do a little bit of traveling."

"And how will that help me?" Ryoma asked sarcastically, his foot connecting lightly against something.

"You're so slow sometimes," the voice purred, "no wonder you're still not a Mage."

Ryoma snorted. "And the one who created you was?"

Karupin snarled, baring its fangs, "You bring that up every time you can't manage another comeback. Yes, so you created me. And that makes you great?"

"Pretty much," he shrugged.

Karupin sighed. It disappeared and then reappeared moments later atop the table, its body a hazy mist of grey. "You won't get much done here. There are libraries, greater even than the King's. If you go there, you might find something useful."

"I was thinking of that but…it's like something's keeping me here."

Karupin looked surprised. "Keeping you here? What do you mean? I thought there was nothing that could affect your magic?"

"It's something…more of a feeling actually. It's strange." Karupin looked at its master oddly. "No matter. We'll leave at first light."

"And the house?" Karupin questioned.

"I'll burn it."

Three hours later, Ryoma left the town, after setting his house ablaze.

"I'll miss the place," Karupin pined from somewhere above his head. Ryoma grunted in acknowledgement. "Oh well, it was necessary. We can't have people snooping around while we're gone."

Ibu Shinji muttered as he worked his spells. The change in the weather pattern disturbed him, everything had remained fairly constant for several hundred centuries, but recently, in the past couple of decades, there had been a slight disturbance in the air. Something had changed in the Mortal Realm, and it was affecting the other Realms as well. He knew this because the souls were becoming increasingly restless, and where previously one renegade soul would attempt an escape, he had to handle at least a dozen in the same time. Some power was stirring in the air, he could sense it, but he wasn't too sure what it was. What he was sure of however, was that it was something old, something very old.

"Those wretched Prophecies must be up to something. Not that they are ever not up to something but they're definitely up to something this time. I must talk to them about this. They are making my job difficult and I can hardly take a break before I have to get back to work. It isn't good, to exert myself like this. I should tell them that. If something happens to me it would be trouble for everybody. Who would take over my role? No one, that's who. They should know better than to meddle with the powers but then they always thought themselves above the Rules and always did what they felt like doing. Such trouble they've caused, and it's always to me. I don't know why is it they choose to burden me so much but it's time I told them that I've had enough after all I've been around almost as long as they have and they've no right to treat me like this…" he mumbled, as he twirled his staff easily on his arm and gales of wind swept at his black cloak. Dusts of smoke scattered ashes on the mouldy grey ground and inhuman screams filled the putrid green haze of air.

"They are stirring down below," Inui reported, "as you've foretold Tachibana."

The Prophecy looked into the glowing sphere that levitated of its own strength. It cast an eerie white glow upon his pale face, making it appear gaunt and skeletal. "And what do you see, Inui? You can read the past. What has changed?"

"The wheel spins, but it reels a different thread. The one before was broken, and the wheel almost shattered, but was saved at the last. There are ancient powers at work, holding the wheel together, but the yarn, it is new, yet old. It is difficult to determine at this moment. Yanagi, what do you say?"

Both turned to regard the third who had been gazing sorrowfully into the sphere, his eyes as closed as it has always been. "The prophecy will be fulfilled yet again, and the one who can save them will have to choose between his own happiness and that of the world. It remains on his choice, if he wants to return to where he rightly belongs."

"There will be conflict," Tachibana spoke, "that is what you are saying."

"Yes," Yanagi bowed his head, "plenty of it."

"Inevitable," Inui answered, "as we all know."

"Unavoidable," Tachibana agreed.

"A shame. I've actually gotten used to peace." Inui stated dispassionately.

"It makes for something interesting however," Tachibana pointed out, "we will witness a new world order, right Yanagi?"

He nodded, seemingly troubled by something. Tachibana noticed this, but decided not to confront him then. Likely later, when the most vindictive of them wasn't around.

a/n: I've finally done it! The first chapter, I finally got round to uploading! Wrote this quite a while back, but never really got round to posting it up. Pity though, because I like the plot more than my other (bad) attempts at fiction. And I realize too, that it bears some resemblance to the wonderful fic by lil' mi1 – Impossible Fantasy. It comes nowhere close to that standard though, so I'm assuming everyone might cut me some slack and pity poor me. Sure, and pigs can fly. :D Oh well.