This is a re-written version of my first Jack fic, called Stand by Me. This is the "prologue" of sorts because it sets the rest of the story in motion; I have a lot more written out but not typed. Expect more soon, if you like it. Mizuko Iwasaki is my creation, and in case you're wondering, she got a score of 8 - a developed character - on the Samurai Jack Mary-Sue quiz, so in case you're reading this and thinking, "Oh, she's an MS," she's not. And I'll prove it to you as the fic progresses. I'm tentatively rating this PG, just because of the beginning part, and later scenes...;) I'm also dedicating this fic to my best online friend Canyon 315, who habitually lets me bounce fic ideas off her. Thanks for everything, Sensei!! Bows C&C would very much be appreciated!!
The atmosphere in the house was tense, anxious - and desperate. Desperation pervaded the house as the young woman struggled to save the lives of her parents, a race against the clock, against time itself. The hours blended together in an endless cycle of cold compresses, fever-reducers, and glasses of water, but it was too little, too late. Death was determined to take them away from her, and take them he would. It was only a matter of time now.
"Mother, don't go." The young woman's voice was thick with emotion, her warm hand clutching her mother's icy cod one. The woman, lying pale and weak on the futon, smiled wearily up at her daughter.
"Oh, my darling child…" she whispered, stiffening as a deep, wracking cough tore through her feeble, sickened body. "My water child, I love you with all of my heart…" She reached up and lightly brushed her daughter's cheek with her fingertips. "There are so many things left unsaid, so many things left to accomplish…"
"Mama--" she sobbed, hot tears spilling down her face, desperately fighting for this moment to last, this last, final goodbye. Staring up at her daughter, her eyes wide and unguarded, the woman licked her lips and whispered something so soft that the young woman had to lean down to hear what she was saying.
"Don't you forget…don't you ever forget that--" She paused, hacking and struggling for air. Clutching her daughter's sleeve she stared lovingly into her eyes. "Never forget that I have always loved you, and that I will always love you…Mizuko…"
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"Excuse me." The man's soft voice could scarcely be heard above the noise of the bar, and he would have gone unnoticed were it not for the attentive eyes of the barkeeper.
"Yeah, what'dya want?" he asked gruffly. "You'll have to speak up, it's loud in here."
"Is this a boating facility?" the man asked softly, his eyes hidden by a wide-brimmed straw hat. The barkeeper looked at him in surprise.
"Of course this is a boating facility! This is only the largest sea-port on this side of the world."
"How much to rent a boat?"
"25 gold pieces for the whole day," the barkeep answered, rubbing his fingers together. "Of course, if you're late bringing the boat back I'll have to charge you extra." The man in the white gi reached inside his robe and pulled out a small sack, setting it down on the counter with a tinkling of gold coins.
"I wish to buy a boat," he said simply in his quiet voice. The barkeep stared at the bag for a moment, his eyes wide.
"B-buy?" he stuttered. "I take it you're not going for a pleasure cruise on this thing." The man shook his head.
"No, I am not."
"Well," the barkeep said, grinning as he picked up the bag, "dock number 13 should be open. Go down those stairs, take a left, and keep going until you find your boat," he instructed, pointing. The man followed his finger, then turned back to him and bowed.
"Thank you very much," he replied, turning and walking toward the door, his sandals clicking rhythmically on the floor. The barkeep watched him leave, the bag still clutched in his hand, before he shook his head as if suddenly remembering something.
"Wait!!" he called out, and the man stopped. "Please, answer me this one thing: Where are you going? Is it worth risking the open seas like this?" The man stood still.
"I am going across the sea," he replied softly, and the barkeep blinked.
"Across the sea? There's no land for thousands of miles, and the only land that you'll ever find if the West Coast. The storms there are legendary for their ferocity; you'll never make it alive, take my word for it." The man paused as if weighing his words; then,
"It is worth risking." And then he disappeared, never to be seen in the bar again.
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A storm was brewing off the coast one mid-December day as Mizuko was pulling up Japanese radishes in her garden. The air was warm, the sky was cloudy, and a strong breeze was blowing. Rain had been falling in smatterings off and on all day, but the full force of the storm had yet to hit land. When it did she would be prepared. She only hoped that the wind wouldn't tear the thatch off her roof, since she didn't know how to repair a thatched roof. Her father had always done the repairs to the house, and while she had had to learn the major repairs - shoji-screen patching being one of them - she had never quite figured out how her deceased father had managed to repair the roof. She had never even been up on her roof, and--
A sudden gust of wind startled Mizuko out of her thoughts, and as she looked up she saw a piece of paper dancing in the arms of the wind. Spinning around in mid-air it slowly drifted down to her waiting hands, where she snatched it out of the air. It was tattered around the edges and was yellowed by the sun, but a picture was clearly visible as she turned it over. Her eyes darted across the paper as she read aloud.
"Wanted, dead or alive…sometimes in hat?" She arched an eyebrow. "Samurai Jack?" Frowning she studied the picture. "What kind of a name for a samurai is Jack?" She paused, and then she found herself smiling. "He's handsome though, this Jack--" Another powerful gust of wind tore through the air and she grimaced, tucking the poster into her sleeve. Shouldering her basketful of vegetables she turned and hurried into the house.
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Out at sea the conditions were much worse. Whipped into a frenzy by the howling wind, the sea churned angrily, the massive waves crashing into each other with a dull roar. Rain was falling sideways into the wind, stinging and biting as it mixed with the hail. The dark ceiling of clouds rumbled ominously as lightning lashed the air like a whip. Anyone with half a brain would have been safely on land.
The barkeeper's warning about the storms kept repeating itself in Jack's mind, but there was nothing he could do about it now. The swells were tossing his boat across the water like a child's toy, threatening to wash him overboard with each new wave. His gi was soaking wet; salt water dripped into his eyes, making the burn. Rubbing in vain at his eyes he squinted ahead of him through the blinding rain, and the shape of a cliff seemed to loom out of the darkness. Blinking the rain out of his eyes he could barely make out a dim light shining through the trees…
He had no time to contemplate what the light meant, for as he lifted his eyes from the churning ocean, his boat ran into the rocks. He didn't even know they were there; the night was so dark and thick, the rain so dense, that it was hard to see. In the blink of an eye the shoddily-assembled boat had disintegrated into firewood against the rocks, and Jack suddenly found himself plunging into the raging water. The water was frigid, and as he kicked up to the surface he gasped for air, feeling as if he had been punched in the chest. A huge wave rolled over him, sending him tumbling head over heels in the dark, freezing depths. Slamming into a rock he felt his right wrist snap and he cried out, desperately trying to reach the distant shore before he was dashed to a pulp on the rocks.
Another wave crashed into him, and before he could react he was sent careening into a rock, his head hitting the outcropping, making his vision blur. Stars danced before his eyes, and he could feel blood pouring down his face and between his eyes from a gash on his scalp. Dizzy with pain and numb from the cold he tread water for a moment and let the next wave sweep him to shore. Clutching his arm tightly below the wrist Jack stumbled onto the sand, collapsing to knees in exhaustion. Staring numbly at the cliff before him he wiped the blood from his face. Hearing a faint noise off to his right he looked over and saw a figure running towards him. His vision swam, and he knew no more.