Something a little disturbing (?) for our beloved baka usagi! v This piece bloomed from a half finished RK to fit the occasion of celebrating Rabi's becoming. I don't own anything but I do hope Rabi remain young and hot for all the days to come!
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Another Life
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The moon was a huge white circle behind his dark shadow. The decaying dried trees stood against the sky, bathed in a translucent white glow. The water trickled from the stream and a quiet splash was heard as a slippery blue fish jumped from the river only to swirl back into the icy black waves. The sky was clear despite the previous spring shower.
His footprints were left behind in the muddy grounds. One after another, they marked his journey. He held up a small piece of paper with two fingers. On it was a badly drawn map where Bookman said to meet him. The messy pencil lines were hard to distinguish in the dark night.
His flaming strands were now just a dark mob of reddish brown. Turning around he looked back at the deserted muddy path behind him, he saw his footsteps slowly being filled up by murky brown rainwater, seeping out from the soil beneath.
Almost there. He looked around, emerald eye wide and alert for signs of danger or the old Panda's shadow.
"Rabi." He heard the man's voice.
"What is that?" He stopped in his tracks and turned around, a thin bored frown on his face.
"Your next alias." The old Bookman stepped out from the thick dark trees.
It was his new name in this exactly same world.
He was against the world armed with only his 48 names from before.
And then day after day he was thrown into a war. Battle after battle, the blood has long since stained his core a bloody red.
If another name is another life.
This has been his 49th one then.
He followed the man, he followed his steps, treading his grounds carefully as so his socks didn't turn out to be as wet as his boots. The moon hung behind them, glowing a hazy white. He heard the night bugs singing their songs by the muddy track; it was a terrible tune to say the least.
The forest soon cleared off and the duel was faced in a small town, eerily quiet but he wasn't surprised. It was already three in the morning.
"We are staying there." He pointed to a small building on one side, the yellow windows flickered but most of them were off. Anyone sane would be asleep in their beds, snoring and dreaming the night away. Unlike some old Pandas who just loved to make him go around towns in the dead of night.
He nodded and continued to walk after his mentor. They came up to the door and the old man pushed it open, it creaked with its rusting hinges. A man at the counter looked up in a daze, it seemed that he was snoozing off too. The man seemed to have recognized the Bookman.
"Oh hey, you're back." Bookman nodded to the man with a worn plaid dress shirt.
"I had to pick up my stupid apprentice." He wanted to protest but the glare that the old man shot him was enough to shut his mouth. He settled for making a face behind the Panda's back. The middle age man chuckled with a warm tone as he watched the duel pad up the stairs to their room.
The door closed without another sound. He gave a stretch; the muscles in his back pulled against their will as he kicked off his boots caked with mud and clay. He undid the big ivory button on his thick poncho; slipped out of it and pulled at the belt of his pants to loosen the band around his bony hip.
He flopped down on the bed, feeling the soft surface sinking beneath his growing form. His eye slid close in bliss as he lazily reached up to scratch at the skin around the eye patch.
"Junior." His eye fluttered open at the title, momentarily forgetting the fact that he had another alias now. One name he could always respond to was Junior because this name stayed no matter how many other left.
"Hmm?" He moved his head, but only slightly so the old man's turned back was in his line of vision.
"Tomorrow morning we are going to meet up with a Finder from the Black Order." The old man slipped pieces of papers into the small leather bound notebook he always carried around. The wrinkled edges and the little snippets of history stored inside could really compare with the amount of years the old Bookman has lived.
"Why?" He kicked at the soft bed sheets, hoping he wouldn't have to move as he snuggled into a more comfortable position. The gears in his head slowly sliding apart to get ready for another night of rare but thoroughly appreciated sleep.
Bookman turned to his apprentice as he heard the question, the red head obviously didn't notice, perhaps he did but if he had he didn't make any gesture of noticing. "He is going to lead us there of course, what were you expecting?"
"Nothing..." He absentmindedly murmured a response as he pulled the covers over himself. The teen reached blindly to shut off the lights, as soon as the lamp was turned off; the room was plunged into a dim environment that left the corners of the musty room drowning in the dark
Bookman shuffled around, finishing things that no one else needed to know and the red head slipped off his trademark eye patch.
Junior knew that Rabi would be another name that would come and go, a mindless life that stood as a narrator with a pen and a piece of paper. No matter how fun loving his cheery grins would be, he would just be another character in a book labeled Bookman Clan.
And then he had a dream that night.
Rabi's eye was illuminated in an eerie green that led him through countless dark hallways. He reached a wooden door, worn down by the years it has came to serve. It swung open and there on the floor was Rabi eating Junior up.
A rip of the flesh, a stretch of the skin and then the sickening crack of a broken bone. Junior was torn apart and each bit of him was eaten up. Blood smeared across Rabi's lips as they stretched almost effortlessly to form a wide grin.
Hello. His breath smelled of Junior's blood.
I am… He covered up his hesitance with a flicker of his tongue along Junior's cold icy cheek.
But he saw through it, Rabi needed time to remember his name. Does he need a minute? No two seconds was enough for that red head.
Rabi.
Rabi held out a hand to him. Repulse, disgust welled up as he slapped the hand away, his fingers warm with Junior's blood (or were they his?). Rabi shrugged before his hand went to scratch at his scalp, bloody fingertips blending right into the flaming strands of fire.
It is nice to meet you.
He woke up, sitting erect in bed as droplets of sweat rolled down his paling face. Fear emitted from every pore on his body and he shivered despite the heat that he radiated with. Rabi's grin that seemed to stretch on and on was carved into his eye, rolls after rolls of perfectly straight teeth gleamed from behind those amused lips.
He fumbled in the dark, the lights switched on and he was pulled back into reality by the sudden sting of brightness. He sat on the bed, his trembling hand still rested on the knob of the lamp that glowed an alluring yellow light.
"What are you doing, Junior?" The small old man walked out from the bathroom, their motel room was now lit up with a well-blended white and yellow glow.
Rabi cracked an easy grin over his lips as he soothed out the wrinkles in his bed sheet.
"Oh nothing, nothing at all. I just had a dream about little ol'Rabi. That's all."
XXX Kuro
Oh geez... what have I done? The cannibalism was written in the slur of a momment as this was the third version of what I had in mind. DX One last thing: Happy Birthday Rabi!! V Hope it wasn't too disturbing... want to review for Rabi's sake? XD