Title: Ju:On - The Creed (Awakening)
Author: imaginary_witness
Pairings: KadarXMalik, AltairXMalik, AltairXAbbas, Crossovers (Intimate pairings only mentioned)
Ratings: M16+ - for violence and supernatural.
Warnings: Graphic Violence, Death, Incest
Genre: Actions, Angst, Deathfic, Drama, Horror, Thriller
POV: Third Person
Summary: Assassin's Creed meets the Grudge
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this story*, living (or passed) human beings or fictional characters. I do not own the original concept idea used, inspired by the story/film adaptation (both the original Japanese and the English remake), Ju:On and The Grudge. These events never happened (as in the Assassin's Creed way), according to history or as the original author intended them. This is a work of fiction and is not intended to offend. Ideas and references goes to the respected creators and their teams. For entertainment purposes only. Thanks.
*With the exception of the Original Characters that I matured and developed for this story to be written, in which I claim ownership of them, such as their names, personalities, and behavior. Several of the characters that were made for this story have been inspired by characters created by UBISOFT** in the Assassin's Creed series, however, I am not using the same character and respect goes towards both the author and company in their own creations.
My characters created are: Hamal the Rafiq of Damascus**, Li Jun (Kadar's friend in Asia), and the secondary characters that really don't have anything to do with both Assassin's Creed or The Grudge; such as the ferry-dock man and the ship crew.
Author's Notes: Two of my favorites things collided into one! Sorry to Abbas Sofian for making him the bad guy (again) and apologies to Altair, Malik and Kadar for reasons to be discovered. Much love to the readers and please message me or leave a comment on what you think.
Oh! And by the way, I should mention, as a writer I do not typically use the third person POV. If the narration of the overall story seems muddy at times or odd, I apologize in advance.
*** means different place/people
- means different place/time
Chapter 1:
"But I do not want to be a rafiq!"
"But it is safe for you Kadar! You will be safe from any harm-"
"What if safety is not one of my concerns, brother?!"
"Do not say such things! You shall be a wonderful rafiq, safe in the bureau and content with your studies. It will bring great honor to ou-"
"Malik, I care not about family honor!"
"Please Kadar! Kadar! Kadar – Come back here!"
The conversation replayed over and over in Kadar Al-Sayf's head. It had been a memory he would normally seek to tune out with distractions of any kind. But recently, Kadar's head had been buzzing with the last memories of seeing his brother.
The ship rocked gently on the seas, bobbing on the clear blue waters like an ornamental display. Kadar rested his arms on the strong rail, the warmth of the wood travelling up his arms. His light cotton sleeves were not enough to keep the sea cold from creeping against his skin, and with the sun setting, Kadar turned his attention from the waters below to scan the horizon for any signs of land. He had been on board the ship for a little over three weeks now and they had made good time. The ship had taken only two weeks to get from the southern-most tip of Japan to the ports in Malaysia, where they had docked for two days to rest and restock supplies. The weather had not been very different from Japan but as they grew closer to home, Kadar could sense a change in the winds; colder nights, warmer days. The sun seemed to glow in anticipation of Kadar's return home.
He saw no land on the horizon and put his head down against the rail. The rocking motion of the ship calmed his racing heart and he bit his arm to keep from screaming. His messy, ebony hair flopped about his face and he stretched his back like a cat.
"Kadar, do not do this. We are brothers! Does that mean anything to you anymore?"
"Malik, you have to let me go. I am no longer your burden! I can fend for myself."
The docks became a place Kadar had long avoided. He hated being on ships of any kind and the lack of land made him sick. He pulled away from the rail and went to seek shelter away from the sickly smell of salt and the chilly air. Safe in his private corner, Kadar curled with his blanket and pillows against the floor. Much to his relief, lifestyles in Asia were much the same in Syria. He unfastened the traditional Japanese robe he wore at the neck and leaned back against the wall, his bright eyes closed. As much as Kadar had fled from home, he missed it. Often he thought of his older brother Malik, wondered what happened to him? Where he was? What was he doing? Did he follow his own dreams of becoming an assassin or did he keep to his studies as well, going to his geography and history classes as he did grudgingly every morning. Malik, like Kadar sought for adventure. But unlike Kadar, he had a trained patience to do what must be done to better oneself – in this case, for both himself and Kadar.
Ever since they were little, Malik played the role of big brother and daddy to the extremes. He kept care of Kadar, making sure he was well-provided for and protected. And in return, Kadar had taken the first opportunity granted to put as much distance between himself and Malik as possible. It had been four years and the guilt he felt was unbearable. So naturally he felt as if he was at fault when he heard the news that Malik was ill.
To make matters worse, Kadar was not informed of how sick. A letter had been delivered to Kadar when he returned from one of his many missions. In Japan he grew in skill and strength, becoming renowned for his agility and ability to free prisoners and concubines alike. Upon his arrivals home to the guild, he was awaited with a hearty meal and a good rest, with several of his new-found friends. But this time, there had been no cheer. He had walked in to have the smile wiped from his face. Only his mentor stood before him, a grand man that was slim and strong. He held out a parchment, faded and crinkled. The seal was broken.
"I am sorry." He spoke, before leaving Kadar alone.
The letter itself was written in Arabic and Kadar knew at once it was urgent news. And private. None in this land could read it – save maybe a trained scholar or so. All the note said was that Malik was injured and fell ill. His presence was required to either care for Malik until his recovery or prepare the arrangements. Kadar could bring himself to neither options.
Silently the next morning, his good friend Li Jun and himself packed a small amount of belongings and bade farewell to the guild that he had come to know and respect as his home. They travelled together as far south as the ports, where Kadar embraced him in Eastern custom and kissed both his cheeks.
"Perhaps we will see each other soon?" Li spoke very broken in Arabic.
Kadar smiled and replied. "Hopefully sooner than later." In the native tongue of his friend.
His journey was alone from there on. And he had only his memories to feud with on the open seas. As far as the crew was concerned, Kadar was little more than the cargo they carried and most made no effort to even notice he was there. Exhausted from his mental battles and tired of the slow, dull sea life, Kadar fell asleep just as the ship pasted Pakistan.
A rough jerking awoke the young assassin. One of the sailors was shaking his shoulder to waken him. He groggily opened his eyes and looked up.
"Time to go, we made port." The sailor whispered.
"What time is it?" Kadar asked, standing and picking up his possessions.
"You slept maybe fifteen hours straight. You had bad dreams so we fed you some of the captain's medicines. It helped. You slept."
"Oh. Well, thank you."
Kadar made his way to the deck of the ship, taking the stairs two at a time. It wasn't because he was anxious to see home, just to be away from the sailors; especially when he was stuck alone with one. The sun was blazing in the sky when he got on deck and he pulled his grey hood up, wearing the traditional robes of his land. The black Japanese clothing was underneath, visible against his knees. He walked to the rail and took in the scenery; the tall towers with their dark shades and the wooden stands and benches scattered about the ports. His eyes shimmered in the sunlight as he took in the busy, crowded streets and heard the loud, familiar calls of his native tongue. Guards strutted by, their armor glinting, and all about, everywhere, people were walking by, passing, shopping, as if he had never even left.
It was not Syria. Not yet home. But it was close enough to make Kadar feel a fresh wave of guilt. His footsteps were light as he walked off the ship to the land. It had been too long for Kadar to feel the ground not roll under his feet and he stumbled slightly, feeling drunken. A few sailors nearby scoffed at him but he ventured passed them and hurried to find a stable. The sooner he crossed the Syria/Iran border, the sooner he could see Malik. And the sooner he returned home to his brother, the sooner he would finally, after four years, feel complete.
The ride was a long one, tedious in its entirety. At one more than one point Kadar thought of quitting. The thoughts of Malik, ill, alone and possibly broken, flashed in his mind. And the thought of if he had already passed by the time Kadar got there forced him to ignore the ache in his thighs and the pain in his back and ride onwards, faster than he was just before. It took some effort and he spent several days road-worn but by the fifth sunset, Kadar could begin to see the towers of Masyaf. Exhaling in relief, Kadar felt a new wave of panic flood his chest and he spurred the horse forwards. Both he and his stallion were tired by the time he had pressed them midway through Kingdom and it took him a carrot of bribery to get his steed the rest of the way. He walked them through the more populated areas, giving them both a rest and sneaking past the Templar guards. The thought of Templars hurting Malik made Kadar's stomach knot.
Before long, Kadar found himself looking upon the gates of Masyaf. He led his horse to the stable, who needed no further ushering once the trough of food came into view. He could no longer stop himself from using his own legs to race towards the Assassin guild, perched at the top of the hill. He ran, whipped around the corner, under the gateway, only to rush straight into a rafiq of similar status and size to himself. It took a moment for Kadar to look up from under his hood and meet the eyes of this rafiq.
"I am terribly sorry!" Kadar squealed out, huffing from his sudden stop.
"It is no-oh dear Lord! Kadar Al-Sayf?!"
The voice sounded familiar and it took a moment for Kadar to realized that he was looking upon the face of his fellow student – now graduated.
"H-Hamal?"
"Yes! Yes, dear boy! You remember me!" Suddenly his expression turned dark and he lowered both his head and voice. "Kadar, what are you doing home?"
Kadar seemed confused and pulled the note from his belt. "I was informed that I was to see Malik, he fell ill."
"Might I come with you? I had just been told, for the thousandth time, I'm not allowed to see how Master Malik is doing."
"Master?"
Kadar wondered if the title was of traditional admiration or if Malik had really reached the rank he dreamt so long to have. He simply sidestepped Hamal, his urge to see Malik intensified with the news. "Please, I must see my brother."
Kadar didn't bother to see if Hamal was watching, following or simply left him to his rush. He raced towards the library, past the training ring and up the steps of the guild. He found his mentor, Al Mualim, just stepping out towards the fields.
"Mentor!" he exclaimed, dropping to his knees.
"Oh! Oh Al-Sayf! You gave me quite the shock. Get up boy." He nudged Kadar with the toe of his sandal and Kadar obediently rose.
"Mentor, you addressed me to return home to ca-"
"Care for your brother Malik. Yes, yes indeed I did. Perhaps he will speak sense to you."
"S-sense, mentor?"
"Indeed. If you are looking for him, he is at the topmost tower room, the one to the far west."
"Indeed. I shall go to him."
Kadar hurried to find him, bowing in traditional Japanese fashion and rushing along. He dodged the few novices and scholars taking books from the library and took the steps two at a time to reach the citadels above. He noticed immediately the room Malik was in by the guards stationed at the door. They spoke not to him as he entered and he forced himself to be calm. He eased the door open and the room was dark. Allowing his eyes to adjust, Kadar entered to find Malik sitting on his bed, his feet dangling from the height of being on an actual structure.
"Malik?" Kadar dragged on the name hesitantly.
Golden eyes flashed in the darkness to seek the source. Malik stood up, staggering forwards and grabbed both Kadar's wrists in his hands at once. "Kadar!"
Without releasing him, Malik pulled Kadar close into a deep hug, breathing in his distinct scent and pressing his cold nose against his warm neck. "Oh, Kadar! You're really here!"
"Yes." Kadar answered shocked, trying to get Malik to calm down. His own voice came out barely above a whisper and he swallowed in an attempt to gain some volume. "Yes, Malik I am here. Come on, calm down. Let's sit, tell me what happened? They said you're sick."
Kadar led him to sit upon the bed once more but as soon as he spoke of the guild Malik grabbed his wrists again.
"Kadar! You got to get me out of here! He's not resting! We got to leave!"
"Malik, what are you talking about? What happened here? Whose he?"
Malik watched Kadar with calculating eyes, responding when he spoke of a person. Malik jumped up and shook Kadar, his voice rising in hysterics. "Kadar – listen to me! You have to get me out of here, I'm the only one who can stop him! We have to get out! Kadar!"
"Malik - You're scaring me."
But just as Malik's screams started, the guards outside came through the door and roughly pushed Kadar back. To Kadar's confused horror, the guards pulled heavy straps of leather from the bed frame's posts and secured his brother down with them. Malik was sweating and straining to pull from the bonds, struggling to find Kadar's crystal eyes as he pleaded with him. The guards simply pulled Kadar from the room.
Hamal was waiting outside, leaning against the wall when Kadar exited. A fresh wave of guilt swept over him and he closed his eyes, not afraid to let the tears fall. Most people say assassin's shouldn't cry, because they are warriors, and because they are not allowed to let personal emotion infiltrate their work. But this was a matter of family, and Kadar was always a little different from the assassins. He was never afraid to show his emotion, never afraid to cry. Malik used to tell him when they were younger that his crying was a strength and that while others fought to suppress their urges, he simply had the strength to let them be.
Pressing a small wad of cloth to his lips, Kadar caught the tears that fell and began to make the descent down the stairs of the guild, all the while pondering how he was to help Malik if the guards would constantly just remove him from the room. What had Malik meant by 'he's not resting'? Who was he? Why was Malik a master? And why hadn't he heard of the other master assassin, Altair Ibn la Ahad since he returned? His thoughts rolled between seeing his former mentor and idol and how he was to help his brother when Hamal's stride matched his.
"You too, eh?" He asked.
"I understand not what you mean." Kadar responded coolly.
"You got removed too." He clarified.
"Is that not obvious, novice?"
"You sound like him. Look like him too." Hamal let his eyes roam up and down Kadar. "You know, I just want to talk to him, I need to ask him some questions."
"Questions?" Kadar let the flirtation slide, knowing his temper would not help his mission.
"Yes. You see, he became a rafiq. But things...something happened in that bureau. I just want to kno-"
"Look, Hamal. If this is about me becoming a rafiq, it is not going to happen. If Malik became one, that is his decision."
"Hear me out Kadar-"
"What is there to hear, Hamal?"
The pair had reached the bottom of the guild and had wondered past the empty training ring. Making their way under the gate where they had first met, Kadar stopped walking. The wind blew slightly, pulling Kadar's robes about him. He crossed his arms across his chest and prepared himself for what Hamal had to say.
"Kadar, you need to get me out of here."
Malik whispered in the empty darkness. The guards had left a candle on the bedside table but the meager flame did little against the blackness. Malik struggled to free his right arm, pulling at the tight restraint. If only he could-
A flash of white and Malik pulled back. He swore he saw a hand, thin and pale, sweep out of the darkness and grab his bound hand. He felt the nails scratch his skin lightly, those perfectly rounded nails. Malik felt a fresh wave of panic overtake him. He was here.
The candle began flickering, the flame dancing and trembling. All around him Malik could only hear the growing sound of someone attempting to speak, their voice sounded more like a struggled, choke-off gurgle; as if something had been lodged in their throat, cutting off their air. The sound grew louder, especially Malik realized in panic, behind him. He pulled against the restraint only to find it released. Wasting no time, Malik pulled the rest of the restraints off him, leaping off the bed and stumbling towards the door. He pounded it with his fists, turning back to face the bed. A figure, pale with bluish skin was staggering forwards. It was draped in a white assassin robe with a sash of red bound about its waist, trailing along the floor. The figure wore a prayer robe over his orders', one with black markings around the arms. It was barefoot and hooded, with long black hair hanging out of its hood and covering its face. It extended its hand towards Malik, groaning as it made its way from behind the bed towards him.
Malik pressed himself against the door and heard keys jingling. The door was opened and Malik turned, pushing the guard over as he rushed out. Malik turned to take the stairs towards the ground floor, only to find the figure clad in white crawling up them. The arms were bent awkwardly, jutting out at unnatural angles, and the neck was cracking as it moved itself up the stairs. The groaning sound was becoming deafening.
Without thinking, the dai raced down the hallway. He exited the safety of the guild's central building and ran along the citadel wall towards the turret. Malik grabbed the ladder's ridges, pulling himself up despite the ache in his arms. Reaching the top, he turned and walked backwards, facing the entrance and awaiting to see the creature make its way up. He tried to calm his racing heart, tried to stop his cease his ragged breathing. There was stillness. He backed his way across the roof of the guild entrance, stepping further from the steps that led upwards.
Looking from the left to the right, Malik saw nothing. He paused and attempted to control his breathing, control his thoughts. He had gotten away again - for now. He rubbed his face with his hand, trying to blot out the sweat gathering under his hair. Two pale hands extended across his vision though, pale white hands. They wrapped around from behind him and the fingers danced across his face. One finger on the left hand was missing, allowing Malik to see from where the ring finder should have been. Before Malik could utter a single sound, he felt his weight being pulled backwards and the ground being swept out from under him, just as the wind blew.
"I really think I cannot help you."
"Please Kadar, I just want to ask your bother what happened in that bureau."
The pair spoke over each other. Both heard a whistling noise and looked about to find the source. A heavy object, clad in black, fell towards them - dropped from the tower above. It made a sickening crunching sound as it met the ground at their feet, spraying their ankles with blood. Kadar fell to the ground, his hand flying to his mouth in shock. Lying broken and mangled at his feet was his brother Malik, whom he had just seen moments earlier. His eyes were glassy and reflective, still gazing skywards. Kadar watched as blood began to fill the whites of his eyes, watched as more blood drained from his broken skull. His rafiq robe was twisted about him and his master belt was glistening from the ruby liquid. Hamal's mouth dropped open in shock. As well as Malik's ruined body, a pale white assassin clung to the dead dai. Its hands were wrapped around Malik from behind and its hood was keeping its face covered, save for the long black hair that draped out and fell about them both. Birds flew off startled into the night as Kadar's piercing scream filled the air.