Please bear with me as you read this lol. This mega story is not really about Suikoden IV and its characters(well, not really); instead, it's about my main character and how he reacts to the world of Suikoden, which, of course, is totally alien to him. This is why I think my story will be different than most stories. My main character is not a kick-ass, take names kind of guy; he's just a scared kid, trying to deal with his change of environment as best as he can. Sometimes, he succeeds, sometimes he fails. That's life. Course, he will have some help along the way who ARE kick-ass, take names kind of people. G
Please R&R. I would appreciate it. If there's interest, I will submit more chapters. After all, I don't want to waste my time if there's no one reading it. :-)
The heroe's name in this story is Clayton.
SHIMMER EFFECT
My mother never wanted a kid. Yeah, I know this, have known it for quite a while in fact, but it won't stop me from loving my mom, even if it sometimes isn't returned. My father ran off with some woman before I was born, and my mother, being the highly responsible and moral woman that she was, couldn't entertain the thought of abortion or adoption.
So, she gave birth, tried to raise me as best as she could, but most of the times, work got in the way. My babysitter, Allison, was usually the one who helped me with my homework or drove me to school or tucked me in at night or tickled me until I laughed so hard, my sides hurt.
I know my mom missed me sometimes because I would often see her shadow darkening my doorway when she thought I was asleep and she would linger a few moments before she moved on. With her departure, I would feel a sense of loss, but I would also feel hopeful that maybe this time, she would be there when I woke up. She never was, of course; there was just Allison who would greet me with a plate of scrambled eggs and a smile on her face.
I know it must have been hard for her. I know this because sometimes, I would hear her crying at night. I know she felt torn between work and her only child. Ultimately, work won out. Responsibility. It's a word I often hear her say whenever we got those few moments alone. She felt like she was doing the right thing by putting food on the table and a roof over our heads.
I can't say I blame her.
Anyway, I bring this up for a reason. Stress had been building inside of her for a while, and that is why I think she finally blew up. She came walking into the house, arms loaded with groceries, and I was in the living room, playing Final Fantasy X.
"You're home early." My eyes never left the screen.
She thunked the groceries on the table. "Gee, don't sound so excited."
"I'm just surprised..."
A pause, then "Well...work got done early tonight."
"Cool."
I heard her ruffling through the bags, and I paused my game, looking back. "So, what happened?"
"A client cancelled, and I was ahead in my other workload, and so here I am." She talked as she worked, pulling out ice-cream, eggs, milk. "We need to nail Mr. Clark's cross-examination section or most likely, he will be convicted of embezzlement charges. I don't think he understands the seriousness of the situation or how ruthless the prosecutor can be. A phone call yielded nothing, and neither did a visit to his house." She stopped and shook her head. "I can't believe he just blew it off. Unbelievable."
I turned back to my game. "That sounds fascinating, mom."
"Would you like some ice-cream? Just the two of us? How about it, slugger?"
"No thanks. I'm not hungry."
"Want to go to the movies? We might be able to catch a late one."
"Nah, I don't feel like it."
Something slammed on the counter, startling me. When I looked back, I saw that it was the ice-cream. "Look, I'm trying, Jason--"
"I know, mom."
"---and I know that I haven't been a very good mother."
"You work, mom. I understand. I'm just not hungry and I don't feel like going out. Is that a crime?"
"No." She looked down, then back up at me. "No, it isn't. But do you want to know what a crime is? The fact that you're 17, almost 18, and all you do is sit around playing stupid videogames--"
"They're not stupid."
"--instead of getting a job."
Oh, great, the work discussion, followed closely by responsibility. I could almost hear her say it, and then, a few moments later, she did. "Responsibility, Jason. Being responsible means working. It means earning your own paycheck and managing your own money."
"Why should I when I have you to mooch off of?" I smiled to show that I was joking.
She didn't think it was funny. "Get out."
"What?"
"Get out!"
"But where am I supposed to go?"
She smiled then, and, oh, God, was it ever the creepiest thing I ever saw. "I'll tell you where you're going to go. You're going to drive to at least five businesses and fill out applications. And you're not going to come home until you do. That clear?"
"Sure." I stood and walked to the front door, throwing my coat on as I did. It had been draped over the couch, something else my mom always yells at me about.
"Oh, and one other thing, squirt."
I turned.
"I will require the names of the places you went to so I can call them in the morning to verify that you actually went there."
My mouth fell open, and she smiled that creepy smile. "I used to be young, too, dear. I know all the tricks."
"I hate you!"
And that's when the explosion happened. She picked up the ice-cream and threw the carton against the wall, leaving a gooey, chocolate mess on the wall, the couch, the banana bar. "Oh, great!" she yelled, throwing her hands up in the air. "That's just what I need! A boss who doesn't respect me and a son who hates me! I make money so you can have the things you want, the finest education at St. Michael's, and this is how you thank me? Because I had the audacity to even remotely suggest that you grow up? Well, excuse me for trying to me a mother!"
She stomped into her bedroom, slamming the door. I didn't know what to say or do. I almost felt like defying her by going back and playing my game. Instead, I just walked over, and saved my progress. I turned off the Playstation and the TV. My mother had made grown men cry, have made judges tremble, and so what could she do to me?
Probably a lot. I shuddered, not wanting to think about it, and then I left. I got into my Mazda and sat there, wondering what to do next, but, in the end, I did what she wanted. I had no choice, really. She was the type of person to make good on her threats to make those calls. I had been check-mated by motherly instinct and age-old wisdom.
I went to McDonald's, then a gas station, then some little mom and pop trinket store, Hallmark, and, finally, an auto store. They were all in the same area, and so I was done in just a little over an hour. Afterwards, I sat in my car, drinking a Coke, wondering what to do next. I was bored. I didn't want to go home and deal with all the drama, but I needed to do something. We live in a small town, and so there is really nothing to do, unless you drive to Ann Arbor, about 40 miles away. I checked my fuel gauge. Half a tank. Good, I had enough gas.
I tore out of the parking lot and drove down the highway enjoying the freedom, the wind tearing through my hair, the feel of the breeze on my face. When I got to Ann Arbor, I drove into downtown and just cruised, not having any plan, not caring that I didn't. My mother likes structure, organization, a well-defined plan. I like spontaneity, going with the flow, not knowing what you're going to do from one minute to the next. In other words, chaos, anarchy.
Oh, if I had known what I do now, I would have slapped myself for such stupid thoughts.
That's when I saw it--a shop set back from the street a little bit, its doors open, its soft light inviting. The sign above the door said Yuber's videogames. Well, if I couldn't play at home, I could at least browse and dream about what I could be playing.
I parked and walked into the store. It looked no different than any other video game store I've been in. Its shelves were stacked with videogames and sectioned off by Playstation 2, Gamecube, and X-box. There were racks of strategy guides, accessories, bargain bins overflowing with old and used games. At first, I didn't see anybody, but then I noticed someone standing behind the counter wearing a black robe, its hood partially covering his face. Strange. I turned from him and began surveying the shelves, and that's when I noticed the other strange oddity: the boxes displaying the videogames only had the titles; there were no pictures. The boxes were generic. I've seen that happen in stores when a box cover is lost or misplaced, but all of them?
"Can I help you, boy?"
The voice startled me, and I jumped. When I looked, he was staring at me, a weird intensity in his eyes.
"Uh...n-no, thank you, I was just, uh..."
"...browsing?"
"Yeah."
"Well, what were you looking for?"
"Actually, I don't know..."
"What kinds of games do you like?"
"What?"
He sighed, as if the very question exasperated him to no end. "What kinds of games? Action? Horror? Platform?"
"Oh. RPG's, I guess."
"Ah. Fantasy."
"Yeah."
"My kind of customer. Actually, I think I have something that's right up your alley." He reached beneath the counter and slid a game across. I walked over. Unlike the others displayed on the shelves, this cover had a picture, depicting a boy with his back to me holding a sword in each hand, surrounded by a collage of numerous faces. The title read Suikoden IV.
"What's this?" I asked.
"A fantasy game, Jason--"
"How did you know my name?"
"--just like any other fantasy game you have ever played. Speaking of which, why do they call it fantasy? What makes it so fantastical? Where I come from, you earn respect by how many kills you've had, how many monsters you have destroyed, how many people you have ruined." He smirked. "Oh, and let me tell you, boy, I have ruined many people and have slaughtered many bodies, so, no, it is not fantasy. It is life. The strong survive, the weak are conquered. I imagine it is the same here."
"Here?"
He didn't seem to hear me. Indeed, he wasn't even looking at me. His fingers were gripping the countertop and I noticed his fingernails were long, almost like mini blades. Within the span of a few moments, the air had changed. When I had entered the shop, it smelled sweet, lemony. Now, it smelled of rot, death, as if the very air had died. It left a stale taste in my mouth.
"No, THIS world is fantastical," he continued. "Seeing your metal beasts that fly without the aid of magic whatsoever and your horseless carriages, why...that is what is amazing."
Ok, it was definitely time to leave. "Well, I have to be going..."
"But, then, in my world, there is a little fantasy as well. I mean, why is it that the hero who always thwarts the villain always finds a base and has it grow? What's that all about? And 108 stars of destiny? C'mon! And the 27 true runes? Why not 28? And, of course, the person who stands there unseen, looking after the hero and the rune he possesses: Leknaat. She is such a fucking meddling bitch sometimes."
Oh...my...God. He went over the edge. Literally. I turned to leave. He still wasn't looking at me. Maybe he wouldn't notice...
"Going so soon?"
I looked back, expecting to see those piercing eyes boring through my eyeballs and into my soul again, but he was still looking down. "Well, I have this test, you see..."
"Ah, well, you have disheartened me, boy. You should at least watch the opening sequence of the game first so you can perhaps buy it next time. Watch before you buy; that's my motto. In fact, yes, I think you shall." He walked over and plopped the game into the system. Then, he turned on the TV.
This was my chance. He was preoccupied. I turned toward the door, and that's when it closed, as if someone had pushed it. But there was no one there.
"You are not going anywhere, Jason."
I whirled around. "How do you know me?"
"I have searched for you for a very long time. And now that I have you, do you think I would relinquish my grip so easily?"
"Who are you?"
"A being as old as the universe itself."
I ran to the door, but the doorknob wouldn't turn. I looked for something to smash the window.
"Oh, do not bother, Jason," he said right beside me. "It will do you no good."
I yelped and stumbled back, tripping over my own feet. I hit the ground, hard, bringing tears to my eyes. I had bit my tongue and I tasted blood.
He stood behind me, arms clasped behind his back, his shoulders dancing up and down in silent amusement. "Magic protects this place, Jason. No one can see or hear you. We are alone, but do not worry. No harm will come to you...at least, not yet."
"What do you want?" God help me, my voice cracked on that last word, and I was close to crying. I could feel it.
"I just want you to watch the game, Jason."
"And then you'll let me go?"
He paused, seemed to think it over. "Yes. You will definitely leave this shop."
What choice did I have but to trust him? I watched the screen. I saw water, a bird flying through the air, an overhead shot of a ship sailing the ocean. Suddenly, I felt sick, nauseous. My stomach lurched, and I groaned, rolling over onto my side. Dizziness washed over me, rippled through my body, and I vomited.
"Do not worry, Jason. The feeling will pass."
"What's happening to me?"
He didn't respond, and when I looked, he was awash in blinding light, the effect so brilliant, that I had to squint my eyes. Streamers of multi-colored light poured out of the television, surrounding the strange man, and whirling around me in a vortex wind. He stood there, laughing, his arms outstretched, welcoming this invasion, relishing in it, and all I could do was scream. I screamed for help, screamed for my mom, but, most of all, I screamed for sanity. And within all this chaos, within all this madness, I saw him: the boy in the game, standing on the deck, and looking at me, as if he would offer help if he could. Then, the room tilted, and I remembered nothing for a while.