Disclaimer: I own none of the Okage characters, besides the temporary ones I put in for the sake of it. But I do own this story, so any copyright of this and I will totally sue your ass. (MAYBE, it could happen, OK not really)
I suppose that this is an introduction, a beginning really. It lost story; it's just a small story really, about, amongst other things:
A lost love
A hero
A quite devious Evil King.
And quite a lot of mushiness.
Chapter One
(Previous to events in Okage)
The twelve year old bystander knew the moment she saw the Hero's Academy that she absolutely wanted to be there. To be one of those prestigious and aristocratic looking people who had traveled all over the world fighting evil and doing good for the world. In her town of Cambridge, the heroes were treated as if they were celebrities, which in theory, they truly were. The girl often wondered what that kind of worship felt like, and if she could ever become something even close to what these people were with their beautiful weapons, and their lovely faces.
It was very unlikely that she would be able to even get into the academy, due to the vast number of rich people applying for it. Yes, rich people also had a certain amount of appeal for this certain job description, and the Hero's Academy was crammed full of the snooty people who would never take the job as seriously as it was supposed to be taken; she just knew that they wouldn't want this half as much as she did! But her family; her mother and father, were so poor that they couldn't even barely afford her younger brother, Timothy, so how on earth was she supposed to go to this prestigious school with the competition of those hundreds of people with more money than herself?
But, she still hoped with all of the might that was inside of her body that she would be able to go to this school; well, it was more of a dream than a hope, but she did desperately want to go to this place. She stood outside the chain-link fence of the school, looking at the large building that was being entered by many beautiful people, and watched the glass surface of the school windows seem to pulse with a resonating light from the fiery gold sun.
She believed that it was the picturesque of beauty, and marveled at the modern built of the school. It was, by far, the most impressive building in Cambridge, and was centered directly in the middle of the town. By far it was the most impressive thing that resided in this small town, all of the houses were mere shambles (especially her family's home,) and people came from all around from small landscape of country to come here specifically, especially tourists who had nowhere better to go. It was there, when she was busy considering all of this, when her first meeting with him began.
"It is quite lovely, isn't it girl?" She heard from behind her. The voice was warm, and held a large amount of humor, like melted honey.
The girl turned around from her perch on the fence, and looked over her shoulder with her wide, golden eyes caught in a pure comedic and guilty expression. Her shoulder length blond hair swished in her face and a piece of hair landed on her nose, causing her to sneeze in a very unladylike manner. The person laughed in a very pleasant tone, his black hair shining almost as bright as the windows of the academy, and his blue eyes laughing. He was probably about sixteen years old, but it was obvious to her that he was already a hero, with his hero clothes and a sword at the side of his waist.
"I think it is…pretty." The girl said quietly in her childish voice, surprised the hero had spoken to her. To most people, she was barely visible, an un-special person. Certainly her appearance was excellent, and her character was somewhat average although she was a bit on the cranky side. And she preferred it this way, and by sheer will she was able to appear as merely part of the background, even if she was standing at the front of a line. She was always just…there….not really noticeable. Not important or of any particular value. And yet, she possessed the unique ability of aggravating almost everyone she had ever met with endless questions of heroes and the world outside Cambridge..
"Pretty, huh? You were looking at it as if it was a two-hundred pound chocolate cake and you were a dieter." The hero said teasingly, and leaned to her height, which was a good foot below his own head, to better talk to her. He nodded over at the building with a smile that rendered her absolutely dazzled. The boy was very pretty, and she found herself admiring him greatly.
"What is your name girl?" The boy asked with a smile tilting his pretty lips. The girl looked up into his pretty face, and blurted her name out unthinkingly.
"Rosalyn." She said to the pretty boy. "And what of your name hero?" She asked in a curious tone.
"My name is Eric, Rosalyn, and it is my pleasure to meet such a pretty girl on this day." He said, smiling her with a flash of very white pearly teeth. Rosalyn had found a friend in this boy, this "Eric."
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Rosalyn and Eric became great friends over the many years, and she confided her strong desire to also become a hero, like Eric was. When Eric heard of this, he used his influence to gain Rosalyn a spot in the Hero's Academy to the surprise and pleasure of her friends and family.
They both were like brother and sister, because Eric had no siblings of his own, and he said that most of the heroes at the academy were complete snobs anyway, so the friends department was out for Eric, although many people posed to be his friends because of his class ranking of number one. And Rosalyn found that although he claimed to have no real friends at the school, he was extremely popular.
When Eric graduated, he and Rosalyn separated ways and Eric began his career of heroism, while Rosalyn continued her studies at the Hero's Academy. Like Eric, even though she was poor, Rosalyn became very popular with her fellow students and outranked her entire class when she acquired her senior year of heroes' school, at the age of nineteen. Everything was going extremely smooth for her…until that day.
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The day that she heard of Eric's death was a gray day. Not that the weather was terribly horrible, as if the weather had caught the memo that he was dead, but Rosalyn coded her days by colors. Happy days were blue days, bad days were red days, curious days were yellow days, frustrated days were pink days, and finally grays days (which she never had until this point) were days of nothingness; pain and loneliness.
It was after she had come home from school and found her mother crying pitifully that she first realized the truth. As soon as she arrived in the door with the whole family, she was extremely worried by the atmosphere.
"What is the matter?" She asked, dumbfounded. Her mother began crying even louder.
"Eric's dead…he was….killed by a…a monster." Her father said quietly, his voice choking lightly. Her family was very much attacked to Eric due to the amount of time he had spent over at their house. Rosalyn felt very cold all of a sudden; a chill that went down her spine as if a cold wind had blew in her home. And yet, she couldn't even cry, the numbness had spread to her lips, her face, and to her eyes.
"He is…dead?" She said in a tired voice, plopping down on a couch, and looking out the windows to the birds chirping and the trees that were steadily showing signs of the ever-so-close fall. It wouldn't snow this year in Cambridge, it never did. And before she even registered what she was doing, Rosalyn had gotten up from the couch cushion, and began to walk out the door.
"Where on earth are you going, Rosalyn?!" Her mother yelled. But the teenager ignored her mother, heading out the big door with a somewhat blank expression on her face. The day of Eric's death was also the day that something inside of Rosalyn went completely numb. That was the day…that Rosalyn stopped crying.
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After the news of Eric's death, all of the students at the Hero's Academy and her family noticed quite a change in Rosalyn. Her skin became quite pale, and there seemed to be an vigorous desire to become the absolute best had taken root where it had not been before. They were impressed by her amount of training and the positivity in which Rosalyn accomplished it.
It was an almost scary thing to see. While most people would become depressed at the prospect at a relative dying, Rosalyn seemed to use it as fuel for the aggressive energy she resonated throughout the battle field, in which she seemed so deeply immersed in. Her family worried about her, her professors praised her, and her peers were quite scared of her when in came in terms of fighting; she kicked some serious butt.
Rosalyn did seem happy most of the time; at least when people weren't around. She was a bit of a moping person when not around other people. It seemed that she had two sides of her; the fighting, spirited Rosalyn; and the scared, tired, and set part. The latter was never really exposed, but Rosalyn really was an unhappy person. Although, her dream of becoming a hero fueled her spontaneous nature, and her will to excel in everything that she did; which she did accomplish.
The day that the Evil King emerged only fueled that.
TO BE CONTINUED…