An Anime Christmas Carol
Sorry, I forgot that I wanted to see if you have any better ideas for the ghost of Christmas past. Guess I'll have to use my original idea. Still waiting on that Beta-reader. I don't own any anime.
By the time Fukuyama had gotten into his pajamas, gone to bed, and fell right to sleep; he had almost forgotten about Inuyasha and his foretelling of three ghosts. Never the less, when the clock stuck one, Fukuyama woke with a start, and looked around.
At first glance, he saw nothing (though that was more because he had closed the bed curtains before falling asleep than anything else). Then, as if hearing a long forgotten echo of his dead partner, Fukuyama heard the cry of Inuyasha last words to him. 'EXPECT THE FIRST GHOST WHEN THE BELL TOLLS ONE!'
Suddenly, the room filled with light, as if the walls themselves were glowing. Soon, the glow died down, until it was a faint light at the foot of his bed. Fukuyama didn't move for a full five minutes. Then, his curiosity outweighing his fear, he went to the foot of his bed, and opened the curtains.
Standing in front of him, was a teenage boy with black hair that was done up in a ponytail, wearing a white robe; a lit candlestick resting on his head. "I am the ghost of Christmas past," the boy said. "Long past," Fukuyama asked. "No," the ghost said, "your past." 'What does long past mean anyways,' the ghost thought.
"We have much to see," the ghost said, deciding to leave it alone, "come." The ghost then pointed at the window, which opened. "But sprit," Fukuyama said, "I, unlike you, am moral; made of flesh and blood. I would fall, and hard to." "Touch my hand," the ghost said, "and you shall be as light as the wind, and as ghostly as me."
Fukuyama grimmest. Then, after putting on his favorite white gloves, he put his hand in the ghost's. As soon as Fukuyama showed he was ready, he and the ghost flew out the window and out into the night. After they were above the roof tops, Fukuyama noticed a light in the distance.
"Sprit," he said, "what is that light? It cannot be morning; it is too early." "It is the past," the ghost said simply. The light grew brighter, and brighter, until it engulfed both Fukuyama and the ghost. The next thing Fukuyama knew, he and the ghost were flying over a forest on a sunny day.
Soon, they came across a large school on a cliff, at the edge of the forest. After landing on the school's grounds, Fukuyama took a good look around. Then, he did something that he rarely ever did nowadays; he smiled.
"This is my old school," he said. "There's Sasuke, and Neji," he said, pointing to each of the kids in turn, "and my old roommate, Negi Springfield. Hello boys! Hello?" "They can't hear you," the ghost said, "these are the shadows of things that have been. They can nether see nor hear us. Think of it as stepping into a very clear memory."
Fukuyama turned to the ghost, only to find himself looking at a redheaded woman in her 20's. "Who are you," he asked. "I am still the ghost of Christmas Past; I just have a tendency to change age and gender from time to time. Sometimes it happens without me even realizing it." "Oh," Fukuyama said, hardly surprised after what had happened so far tonight, "okay."
As they walked inside, Fukuyama couldn't help but to point at everything and everyone, saying who or what there were, and the memories they brought back. Soon they entered what looked like a large living room with a big fire place.
"I remember this room well," Fukuyama said, "I spent a good deal of my spare time in here." "And does he also look familiar," the ghost asked, pointing at a boy in the corner. Fukuyama looked over, and saw a young, blond haired, boy, no older than six.
"I do," Fukuyama said, looking at the young boy, "it's me." Indeed it was; a younger Fukuyama was sitting in the corner, reading a book. "You don't look happy," the ghost said. "I'm not," Fukuyama told the ghost, "it's Christmas, and I'm stuck here."
"Why don't you go home," the ghost asked. "Who would I go to," Fukuyama asked, turning away from his younger self, "no one wants me. My father left at this school the first chance he got, and never lost any sleep over it."
As Fukuyama watched, each of the Christmas's he had spent past like minute in time. Finally, they reached a Christmas were the young Fukuyama was joined by someone.
He had been sitting, watching the fire, when suddenly, a young girl with long blond hair came running in. "Lisa," the young Fukuyama said in surprise, "what are you doing here?" "Brother," Lisa said, running right up to him, "I've finally convinced father to let you come home for Christmas."
Fukuyama smiled as he watched Lisa drag the young Fukuyama outside. "That was a great Christmas," he said as the doors closed. "Why," the ghost asked, "did you and your father finally make up for lost time?" "No," Fukuyama said, "in fact, spending it with mom and dad was horrible. But, Lisa was always the one family member that I cared about above all other; and vice versa."
Fukuyama then frowned; but in sadness, not annoyance. "But," he continued, "that was also one of the last two times I ever saw Lisa after dad had sent me to that school." As Fukuyama watched on, the scene changed. It was now the next Christmas (he could tell because his younger self was older looking), and the young Fukuyama was standing by the fireplace.
Just then, a man with a goatee and a cigarette in his mouth came into the room. "My old headmaster," Fukuyama said, "Mr. Takahata." "Congratulations Fukuyama," Mr. Takahata said, coming up to the teenage Fukuyama, "today, you leave this school on knowledge, and enter the world of business." "Yes headmaster," the teenage Fukuyama said, acting like he didn't care one way or another.
"Oh, don't be so down boy," Takahata said, "you will make a great business man; I know it. Soon, your prowess will stand as strong as this building itself." Takahata whacked on the wall behind him for emphasis, and the shelf above him snapped in half. Takahata jump out of the way in time, all of the objects on it nearly hitting him on the head. "…I've been meaning to fix that for while now," Takahata said, nervously. Both the young Fukuyama and the old Fukuyama tried not to smile, although the older one was having more trouble.
"Anyways, I know that one day, you will have a business of your very own," Takahata said, "I can feel it in my guts, as strongly as when I eat one of you special burrito burgers." "Yes headmaster," the teenage Fukuyama said, trying even harder not to laugh.
"Ah," Takahata said as a new man came in, "hear is your instructor now." "Come Scrooge," the ghost said, grabbing his hand, "we still have much to see." And with that, she and Fukuyama flew out the window.
As soon as they had left, they found themselves in the street of the city, standing next to a large building. "Why, it's the first place I worked," Fukuyama said with glee, "Mr. Rakan's weapon emporium." "Why did he sell weapons," the ghost asked. "For novelty purposes only," Fukuyama said, turning to the ghost. The ghost was now male, and almost as old as Fukuyama himself.
Just then, a large, muscular, dark skinned man with white hair walked out and looked around. "As I live and breathe," Fukuyama said, "Mr. Rakan himself." "Ah," Rakan said, "night is falling, and the lamps are being lit. Time to start the party." "Mr. Rakan's annual Christmas party," Fukuyama said, fallowing Rakan back inside, "I remember it well."
And indeed he did. The music, the food, the dancing; it all happened as he remembered. "Look," Fukuyama said, pointing up the stairs to a man with long black hair, "there's my old friend, Inuyasha Marley. And there I am," he pointed to a corner of the room, "fussing over the cost of the party, as usual. Soon, I'll approach Mr. Rakan about it, and then he'll tell me to stop worrying and join the party."
Just then, the young adult Fukuyama got up and walked over to Rakan. "See," Fukuyama said, pointing to his younger self, "there I go." "Sir," the younger Fukuyama said to Mr. Rakan, "did you see the books for this year, I'm not sure we can afford… this… party."
The young Fukuyama had just seen who Rakan was talking to; a beautiful, brown haired girl, with a well developed chest. "Oh," Rakan said, seeing who Fukuyama was looking at, "Fukuyama, I'd like you to meet Kirie. She the niece of a friend of mine; and she'll be working here next year. I just wanted to show her around since we all have free time today."
"Hi," Fukuyama said, a bit higher than he meant. Kirie giggled, and looked at him like he was an old friend, who had become more than a friend. "Well," Rakan said," seeing the looks on their faces, "I'll just leave you two alone then." If they heard him, they did a great job of not showing it.
"Do you remember this to," the ghost asked. "I do," Fukuyama said, "it was the day I met her. I remember it well indeed. I had always been sure of everything I did; but when I laded eyes on her, I wasn't even sure of myself."
"I bet the large chest helped as well," the ghost said. "It helped," Fukuyama admitted, "but only a little bit." "Would… would you like to… to dance," the young Fukuyama asked, hold a hand out. Kirie smiled, took his hand, and said, "Alright, but I warn you, I'd not that good of a dancer." "She really wasn't," the older Fukuyama said, as he watched them go out onto the dance floor, "I remember I had sore feet for the rest of the night."
"Come," the ghost said, grabbing Fukuyama's hand, "we have more to see." With that, they flew out of the building. As before with the school, no sooner had the left the place, then had they found themselves is another time.
They were in a room; much like the one Fukuyama worked in, except it had a second desk, which Inuyasha sat at. "I remember this," Fukuyama said, "this was the first Christmas where I had my own business. Well, where Inuyasha and I shared a business." "good for you," the ghost, now a six year old girl, floating above the ground so that she could still looked Fukuyama in the eye.
Just then, Lisa, now a young lady, burst into the room. She didn't look like she'd changed much, except she now had a belly the size of a tire. "Brother," Lisa said, running over to the younger Fukuyama, "I finally found you. I have great news. I'm pregnant!" "…I can see that," Fukuyama said after a while.
"Oh," Fukuyama said, smiling, "this is also the year that I saw leas for the second time since father sent me off to that school." Fukuyama watched as Lisa explained all her plans for the baby, and the names had decided on. Soon, she let Fukuyama get back to his work, telling him she'd be back, next time with pictures.
"If I remember correctly," the ghost said, "this was also the last Christmas she ever had." "Yea," Fukuyama said, looking down, "it was." The ghost put a reassuring hand on him shoulder. When he next looked up, Fukuyama saw that their surroundings had changed without him realizing it.
They were now in a snowy field, a small river with a bridge nearby. And on that bridge, was a Fukuyama that was in the prime of his adulthood, and he appeared to be arguing with Kirie. "No," Fukuyama said, looking at the ghost, "not this." The ghost, who now looked like a one year old boy, looked at Fukuyama sadly, then he moved the both of them closer.
"But why did you move back the date again," Kirie asked. "I told you, love," Fukuyama said, "I cannot yet have use marry. Business continues to be poor. Plus you're being out done by the actress." "That was three weeks ago," Kirie said, "I told you last week that I was back on top." "You did," Fukuyama said in surprise.
Kirie looked at him with tears in her eyes. "I don't even know why I still stay with you anymore," Kirie said quietly. "We stay because we love each other," Fukuyama told her. "You once loved me," Kirie said, "but my love is like the heat of a flame, and yours is like the candlestick; while mine grew, yours only melted away."
"That's not true," Fukuyama said, although the way he said it sounded true. "Prove it," Kirie said, standing up, "I'm leaving. Leaving you, leaving our marriage, everything. But if you ever once come for me, I will know that you love me." And she walked off.
"Sprit," Fukuyama said, as he watched Kirie walk away from his younger self, "why do you show me such things?" "I am sorry," the ghost said, "but I still have more to show you." "No more," Fukuyama said, putting his face in his hands.
When the ghost put its hand his shoulder again, Fukuyama looked up and saw they were now someplace else. "Where are we," Fukuyama said, "I do not know this place." "No," the ghost (who was now a teenage girl) said, pointing to an old woman, "but you know her."
Fukuyama looked around to where the ghost was pointing. There, sitting in front of the fireplace, three young children running around her chair, was an elderly Kirie. In the kitchen next to the room, were a blond adult and a brown haired woman.
Just then, a bald old man walked in a walked up to Kirie. "My love," he said to her in a quiet voice (Fukuyama felt his heart stop for a second), "I just past an old… associate of yours." "Fukuyama," Kirie asked. "Yes," the old man said, "it seems he has lost a dear friend today. His only friend."
Kirie looked sadly at the blond man in the kitchen. "Do you think I should tell him," Kirie asked. "No," the man said in a hushed voice, "Fukuyama already has a nephew; I don't think he needs any more relatives." Fukuyama let that sick in. then he slummed to the floor.
The man in the kitchen was his son. He had a son. "Scrooge," the ghost said, apprehensively. "Leave me be," Fukuyama said. "But Scrooge," the ghost said, putting a hand on Fukuyama's shoulder. "No more," Fukuyama said, pushing the hand away. "But Mr. Fukuyama," the ghost said; now putting a hand on both shoulders.
In a flash, Fukuyama took off his one of his gloves and tried to put out the candle on the ghost's head. "HAUNT ME NO LONGER," he shouted as he did so. The scream that came from the ghost was horrible. It was like every age and gender the ghost could take was screaming at the same time.
The candle's flame must have been the ghost's life force, because it soon started to glow and sift, like it was having trouble staying together. Soon, the glow and the sifting was so intense, Fukuyama was having a hard time keeping himself where he was.
Then, with a final cry, the shouted, "EXPECT THE NEXT GHOST WHEN THE BELL TOLLS TWO!" then, like a flame being blown out, the ghost poofed out of existents. Fukuyama was back in his room. It was 1:05 in the morning. Fukuyama did not see this. In fact, it was a few minutes before he got up from where he was kneeling, and got back into bed. It was a while after that before he finally laid down and went to sleep.
Well, please review. Also, if you want, I can tell who each of the ghosts are, and what manga/anime they're from. For the record, the ghost of Christmas past is Ranma from Ranma ½. Thank you for reading this, and again, please review.
Imagaco