Chapter One

Scars To Be Borne

Mikieru Makimachi drummed his fingers idly on the surface of his oaken office table, eyeing the stack of cardboard folders that towered in front of him. It was Wednesday afternoon, the middle of the week, and the Cleric was basking in the realization that this was the worst day of the week for most government employees. He spent most of his shifts holed up in his office, doing lots of paperwork and not much else, and the weekend was still three days off.

It wasn't always like this for the tall, 29 year-old Cleric. He had held a Prontera Constable's job for over three years—not liking it much either at the time—until his superiors decided that his actions during the anarchy in Al de Baran two years past merited some sort of recompense. The Constabulary elevated Mikieru to the position of Prefect, giving him command over his own scene-of-the-crime investigation team. The Cleric was at first gladdened by the promotion, primarily due to the increase in salary that went with it—only to eventually sulk at the new job description. Now, stuck in his office with a ton of paperwork due first thing in the morning, he mused at how much he missed spending the day out on Prontera's streets, patrolling his beat and keeping the peace.

A resigned sigh of exasperation escaped Mikieru's lips, and instead of reaching for the top of the stack he reached for the day's periodical on the other side of his table. He scanned the tabloid's front page, looking for something to take his mind off his job for a moment. He looked at the day's date: May 17, 1396 SR.

Already, Mikieru thought.

It was only a week before Napolde's second death anniversary. A more courageous soul had not crossed Mikieru's path before she did, and a greater sacrifice had not been made before hers. Almost two years had passed since he, the Merchant Jared Wycrow, and his friends laid the brave Elf's memory to rest.

The thought of paying the Elf's gravesite a visit crossed Mikieru's mind for a brief moment before it was overshadowed by the image of what caused her death.

Mikieru put the newspaper down and turned to look at the bookshelf behind him. In a locked compartment behind a row of tall books, he had hidden two smooth, three-faced rocks. One was Jared's—and the other was one he found after the expiration of the Taishou… or, more aptly, Urd…

Who was Urd? the Cleric thought to himself again. He was never able to find the answer since he returned to Prontera after Al de Baran's liberation. The worry never left him, even after Urd's death. He unnervingly felt that he was being watched by evil eyes after that grisly battle—after all, Urd had revealed her name only to him.

Getting off his seat, Mikieru walked over to the bookshelf. His gloved hand brushed over the spines of the several aged books that his friends from the Prontera Cathedral had "donated" to him—for purposes of making his new office look "smart." While the Cleric never had time to read most of them, one book caught his attention almost immediately after he received it. Finding it, he pulled it from the shelf.

He laid the large book on his table. The leather cover had the following words engraved onto it:

Mythology Of The Nordic Ages

Listlessly, he took a seat and opened the book to page 1.

•••

On page 32, something caught Mikieru's green-and-blue eyes. It was an etching of an old woman, seated on a rock and clothed in a tattered cloak. A bony hand stuck out of the folds of her robe and tended to a sewing wheel. Underneath the etching were the words:

Urd, Norn of the Past

…it has been widely surmised that aside from the three Norns living at the base of the great Yggdrasil's root, there were countless other Norns existing in Midgard. Legend has it that a Norn was present at the birth of every man and woman in Midgard to determine the child's fate. Even Odin, the greatest of the Aesir, had his fate sown by the Norns, indicating an inescapable destiny that all creatures in the Nine Worlds had to face…

Mikieru looked up from the book.

Nine Worlds, he thought. Midgard, Asgard, Vanaheim, Alfheim, Svartalfheim, Jotunheim, Nidavellir, Muspellheim, and Niflheim.

The Cleric looked out his office window in deep thought. He knew that recent scientific discoveries had largely disproved Old Nordic Mythology. For instance, Midgard was not a vast garden in the middle of an endless ocean—it was a planet, shaped like a sphere, which revolved around the sun once every 365 days. Storms were caused by meteorological disturbances in the atmosphere and not by the Norse god Thor's mighty hammer. And the great Yggdrasil tree, whose roots the Old Norse claimed to stretch from the depths of Niflheim all the way up to the Aesir's halls in Asgard, simply did not exist.

And yet there were still several Old Nordic insistences that had not yet been disproved. Among them was whether Midgard was truly headed towards a great Twilight—known to the Old Norse as Ragnarok—and whether or not there was a force known as Fate holding sway over the lives of its inhabitants.

Sighing, Mikieru turned the page. He had read this book several times before, and he knew that the answers he sought could not be found in the book. Still, he pored over its cracked pages, hoping that a fresh reading would unlock some badly-needed insight into the mystery known as Urd…

•••

Three quick raps came at Mikieru's door, causing the Cleric to look up with a start. Blinking, he shot a glance at his window—the sky was already showing hints of orange. Three hours had passed after he opened the book, and he had not noticed it.

Mikieru exhaled, closing the large book. "Come in," he called.

The brass doorknob twisted, and the massive door leaf swung inward to reveal the lanky form of Shin-ju.

"Shin-ju," the Cleric greeted.

The boy smiled. "It's already half-past five, Senpai," he said, a grin on his handsome tan face. "Are we gonna practice or what?"

Mikieru returned the smirk as best he could. Shin-ju had grown up so quickly during the past two years—the 13 year-old Nomad boy was now a young man at 15. Despite the dour experiences they had both gone through in Al de Baran, the bond they shared did not waver over the years.

"Yes, yes," Mikieru replied after a moment, arranging the forgotten stacks of paper on his desk. "You go on ahead to the courtyard. I was doing some paperwork and I must have gotten engrossed. I'll meet you there."

Shin-ju shrugged, the familiar grin still on his face. "Well!" he chuckled, turning to leave. "I guess you're liking your new job, after all."

Mikieru stopped moving for a moment after hearing Shin-ju's comment. He glanced at the closed door with a raised eyebrow, as though indicating that Shin-ju got him there. In spite of all they've been through over the years, the boy acted as though it didn't bother him in the slightest, unquestioningly working his mundane janitor's job and looking forward to afternoon sparring matches with his Master.

•••

Of course, Mikieru knew why Shin-ju was this carefree…

•••

Before replacing the large book on the shelf, Mikieru glanced at the tiny letters engraved at the bottom of the back cover:

Printed in Juno, Republic of Schwartzvald

••

Sean Garner walked down the second-floor hallway, followed by his team of Constables. It was six in the afternoon, and he and his team was on their way out of the Constabulary HQ for their first assignment of the day.

At 28, Sean was still one of the youngest Prefects on the Constabulary. The recent elevation of his friend Mikieru Makimachi to the rank of Prefect was both good news and bad news for him—while he was happy for his friend's fortune, he knew that his own position was slightly shaken. He would be the first to admit that Mikieru's sleuthing skills were superior to his own.

The sounds of combat greeted Sean and his team as they rounded a corner that overlooked the courtyard.

"Whoa," one of the Constables commented. "Look at that."

"They're at it again," another said.

Sean looked over the railing, his eyes widening at the fantastic one-on-one battle that was unfolding in the courtyard below. Mikieru and Shin-ju were deep in their Blessing trances, each emanating a bluish-white aura from their bodies. The sandy courtyard surface was marred by footsteps and skid marks—Sean guessed that most of those marks were made by the feet of the Shin-ju, since it was quite obvious that it was the Nomad boy who was on the offensive.

One of the Constables winced as Mikieru soundly blocked a sweeping mid-air kick from the boy. "That would have broken my arm," he stated, shaking his head.

"Or your skull, if you weren't fast enough," one of his peers said.

Sand flew as Shin-ju lunged one more time towards Mikieru, flinging a straight right at his Master's jaw. The Cleric nonchalantly leaned away, avoiding the boy's fist by inches, and parried the boy's arm to the side.

Instead of getting knocked off-balance, Shin-ju's body twisted in mid-air, like a cat compensating for a fall, and threw a sweeping backfist at Mikieru's head. The Cleric's eyes widened—this was a counter-attack that he didn't expect.

"Whoa!" Sean spat as the boy's fist swept in.

At the last moment, Mikieru ducked, planted his feet on the ground, and slammed an open palm into Shin-ju's exposed midsection. With a grunt, the boy flew backwards, his feet landing on the ground and carving two long skid marks from the Cleric's position. When he slowed to a stop, Shin-ju clutched his midsection and fell to his knees, his Blessing aura fading into nothingness.

"Do not be so careless, Shin-ju!" Mikieru scolded, standing upright. "You are so fixated on attacking that you make yourself vulnerable to reprisals!"

Shin-ju gritted his teeth, trying in vain to keep his hold on his Blessing trance. Soon only Mikieru had the bluish-white aura wafting from his shoulders.

"For the millionth time, protect your torso," the Cleric continued. "The Blessing trance is a Cleric's main advantage. You cannot afford to lose it even once by absorbing a blow to your midsection… casting it a second time is more difficult, more dangerous…"

"I know, Senpai, I know," Shin-ju interjected angrily, the fire of the match still in his blood. "…and it might kill me if I force the issue. I know. Now let's go!"

The boy rose to his feet, one hand still clutching his stomach as he got up. Defiantly, Shin-ju assumed a fighting stance, although he was slightly bent from the pain in his midsection.

Mikieru allowed himself to stare at his Apprentice for a moment. He felt a pang of guilt for the extra-heavy counter-attack he had just delivered, but he knew he would not have executed that instinctive palm strike if he wasn't in any real danger—and Shin-ju's sweeping mid-air backfist came lethally close to connecting. Although still very young and raw, Shin-ju was admittedly getting better.

Instead of settling into his own barehanded fighting stance, Mikieru turned his face skyward and noticed the dark rain clouds that were gathering from the wind's direction.

"Shin-ju," Mikieru said calmly, releasing his hold on his Blessing trance. "That is all for the day."

"Aww, but Senpai!" Shin-ju protested.

"You are weakened," the Cleric explained. "If the weather gets to you tonight, the fever will take days to shed. Continuing any further would only do you more harm than good."

Shin-ju bit his lip in frustration, but knew that there was no convincing his Master otherwise. He loosened his stance and began to walk towards the steps that led towards one of the HQ's halls.

"However," Mikieru said, catching the downcast boy's attention. "I will give you this much. You almost got me with your last attack."

Shin-ju's eyes widened. "Really?" he spat.

The Cleric smiled, raising a gloved hand high above his head. "Put it there, pal," he said.

The boy grinned at the rare congratulatory remark that Mikieru gave him. He took a running start and leaped to return the Cleric's high-five. Together, the two friends headed towards the steps, where they had left their towels and water canteens.

With the fight over, Sean and his Constables went on their way to their day's assignment.

"Say, Sean," one of Sean's Constables piped up. "Ever thought about sparring with them?"

An audible sound of amusement came from Sean's lips as he gave his reply.

"What am I, stupid?"

•••

Mikieru and Shin-ju sat on the stone steps, resting and toweling off their sweat. While Shin-ju drank from his water canteen, Mikieru sneaked a look at him. The Cleric noted how differently Shin-ju looked today from the first time he saw him in that cold alley in the Dolter district. He especially noted Shin-ju's face—it had the tan skin of a White Nomad, and yet there was something about his eyes, nose and lips that looked Caucasian. If Shin-ju's skin was lighter, he would almost easily pass as a Northfolk… and a quite handsome blue-haired one, at that. Mikieru thought that if Shin-ju ever decided to refuse training in the Holy Arts, he would eventually go out and break some poor girl's heart.

Shin-ju noticed Mikieru's glances after a moment, and he turned to look at the Cleric. With a puzzled half-smile, the boy shook his head. "What?" he asked.

Mikieru laughed softly, turning away. "Nothing," he said. "It is only that you seemed to have grown so much these past two years. When I found you, you were… what, four-foot-four? Four-foot-six tops?"

Shin-ju grinned, trying to shrug off the embarrassment.

"Now you are closer to five-foot-six. That is about six inches a year. I do not think I grew up that much when I was your age."

Shin-ju laughed. "Seriously, Senpai, I can't imagine you to be any shorter than six-foot-three."

"Hey, this is about you, not me."

"I don't wanna talk about me," Shin-ju laughed. "I'm pretty sure you'll jab at how squeaky my voice used to be."

"Well, now that you mention it," Mikieru poked. "I kind of liked the way you sounded before your voice broke."

"Gimme a break, Senpai. I sounded so girly back then."

"Quite. Like… 'It's not what you think, Senpai!'"

Shin-ju guffawed as Mikieru tried to mimic the boy's pre-teen voice. "It was squeakier than that! It was like… 'Can't I have something to eat that's NOT over a day old?'"

Mikieru chuckled. "Or, 'Whoa! I've never seen bugs THIS big before!'"

"And don't forget my favorite line, Senpai!" Shin-ju whooped between fits of laughter. "Like… 'My name is—'"

"Shin-ju Yang?"

"Yeah, exactly like that—" Shin-ju's voice trailed off. The boy thought Mikieru finally mimicked the exact high-pitched note that Shin-ju used to have, but it wasn't the Cleric who said the last line. Together, the two friends turned their eyes towards the courtyard, where the very feminine voice came from.

•••

A Kafra delivery lady was standing in the middle of the courtyard, holding a letter envelope in her hand and glancing between the two men seated on the steps.

"Er…" Shin-ju stammered, getting up. "I'm Shin-ju Yang."

"Ah," the Kafra lady smiled, pleased. "I have a letter for you from a certain Yamakuno Yoriko, in Payon…"

Shin-ju froze.

"Serious?" he said loudly, leaping up and briskly approaching the Kafra Lady, leaving Mikieru alone on the stone steps.

Shin-ju had written several letters to Yoriko over the past two years. At some point in all of the letters he wrote, he asked what she had meant by the words she said when she left him in that Al de Baran infirmary warehouse. He had never received a reply from the girl, leaving him with the gripping feeling that something was terribly wrong.

Now, she had written back.

His heart beating wildly, he signed the Kafra Lady's receiving list. Then he took the letter from her fingers and ran back towards the steps.

"G'night, Senpai!" Shin-ju called, sweeping up his towel and water canteen on his way up the stairs. "I'll be in my room if you need anything!"

Shin-ju never waited for a reply. He was in the building and on the way up to his utility room bedroom well before Mikieru had a chance to answer.

Moreover, Shin-ju failed to see the grim expression that came over the Cleric's face when Yoriko's name came up.

•••

Shin-ju ran to the utility room where he was staying, threw his stuff into the broken closet, lit a candle and climbed to the top of the stack of boxes beside the window. With quivering fingers, he opened the sealed envelope and took out four pieces of paper. Moving them close to the candlelight, Shin-ju eagerly began to read what Yoriko had to say to him after two years.

Dear Shin-ju-kun,

How are you? I hope you are all right. I apologize for taking so long to write back. Do not worry—I have received all your letters and I have read them all… over and over, in fact. Even after two years of being away from you, I still think of you… and it is quite funny how even your handwriting reminds me of how happy we used to be.

I am all right here. Papa told me that I gained some weight, and I am happy to hear that. I do think my body has been developing rather rapidly… I had to change my kimono sets more than three times the past year because my shins were showing!

Shin-ju noticed the handwriting on the paragraph that followed. It was still Yoriko's, but it looked as though the girl had paused for several moments before resuming the letter.

Hmm… it seems I do not know how to keep the mood of this letter as light as I want it to be. I suppose I should just say my reason for writing straight away…

Please do not be angry at what I am about to tell you, Shin-ju. It was Papa who told me not to write to you, and he does not know that I am writing you this letter now. I am in the Archers' Village now, about to enter my third year of schooling, and it is much easier to hide in a Kafra mailing station here, since I do not have my Papa's eyes watching my every move.

This is the reason why I left you, Shin-ju-kun.

Shin-ju's smile faded as he turned to the second page.

I want to say sorry. I lied to you on that day in Al de Baran. When you woke up after the battle with that monster, you asked me what had happened… and I told you how my Papa and his Knights managed to cut it up into pieces, and Mikieru-sama managed to invoke an exorcism spell before the creature could rise again. This was what my Papa told me to tell you if you asked.

But that is not what really happened…

Papa and his Knights could not even wound the creature. Its bones were harder than the blades of their Katanas. Even with their self-enhancement skills, they could not contain the monster—and it was not long before many of them, my Papa included, were wounded by the monster's bones. When Papa and his Knights fell back, the creature began to approach Jared-sama again—only to freeze when you stood in its way.

•••

The boy froze, reading the last line again.

He stood in the creature's way?

That couldn't have been true… he lost consciousness just before Akira and his Knights pressed their combined attack against the monster!

Turning to the next page, Shin-ju continued to read the girl's grim letter…

•••

I could not believe what you did after that, Shin-ju-kun. I saw a deathly orange aura emanate from your shoulders. And it seemed that the creature could not move while you stood in front of it—and it did not resist when you raised a hand in the air and threw it down, slicing the creature's body cleanly into two parts!

I do not understand what happened in the several moments that followed after the creature fell to the ground… it seemed as though it, and you, were locked in each other's stare. I do not know what you were doing. Then, without warning, the orange aura that enveloped your entire body weakened into nothingness, and you fell backwards onto the ground, unconscious. It was then when Mikieru-sama rose, took his weapon, and exorcised what remained of the creature.

The turmoil was over after that… but not in my heart.

I knew that only Demonic creatures emanate the orange aura that you did. Papa and Mikieru-sama knew this as well. They knew something was very wrong with you, and that only you would know what had transpired when you cleaved the creature in two. Mikieru-sama, however, thought that it was a possibility that you had no conscious thought when you defeated the monster. That was when Papa told me to stay with you until you woke up. And when you woke up, I would tell you the lie they had concocted if you had no memory of the incident. That was the case when you woke up… and that is why I lied to you…

So, now you know why I said those words when I left you in that infirmary, Shin-ju-kun. I truly do believe you are a good person, and not a Demon. Papa and Mikieru-sama are without a doubt only thinking of what is best for you, so please… do not hold any spite against them.

It is my wish, Shin-ju-kun, that we try, as hard as it might be, to put the event behind us. I truly do hope it is over so that all of us—you, most of all—could get on with our lives. As troubled as my heart is over the circumstances surrounding this letter, I am still trying my utmost to live my new life as an Archer as best I could.

Shin-ju listlessly turned to the last page.

Coming this June, me and my buddy Kuusuke will be undergoing training missions into the Forests Of The Moon. You remember that place, yes? It is where I was found by my Papa five years ago, and… you may think this funny, Shin-ju-kun, but that uncharted was also the place where Kuusuke was found. Yes, he is a Demi-human like me… a half-Elf, in fact. Among all of the new Archers in Payon, he is the best one among us… and…

Shin-ju could not believe what Yoriko wrote next.

…I love him.

It pains me to tell you this, Shin-ju-kun, but I truly do. Being the exact same as me, he understands all of my feelings and all that I am going through in my life… and now that he is my buddy, he has proven to be the inseparable companion I had expected him to be, and more. If things were only different, Shin-ju-kun, I would like you to meet him, only…

Shin-ju-kun, I am sorry, I really, really am. But I need to tell you the truth about everything. I am about to leave you with this letter, and I want no lies to remain between us. Please promise me, Shin-ju-kun—do not write back. Papa does not know that I am writing to you, and I cannot bear to betray his trust any more than I have with this letter.

But, as before, I will leave you with the same wish I made for you in the Tao Shrine. Please find yourself, Shin-ju-kun. Please find whatever it is that you are looking for, and most of all—please live with the Tao's love and my own.

Goodbye.

Yoriko

•••

A gust of wind flew in through the small window, blowing the sheets of paper from Shin-ju's limp fingers. The flame on the candle died with the wind, surrounding the boy with the darkness of night. Listlessly, Shin-ju looked out the window, his eyes watching the steady fall of rain outside. He sat there, on top of the tall stack of boxes, for the rest of the night.

•••

The rain persisted throughout the night and past the sunrise. It was now seven in the morning, and a drenched Mikieru stepped onto the Constabulary locker room. Expectedly, no one was there yet. None of the day-shift Constables had reported for duty, even one hour after the swing shift had logged out. It was quite the main problem the Cleric had with his Constables.

As he took off his raincoat, the Cleric turned his head to the sound of a mop moving over the locker room's tile floor. It was Shin-ju, and he was beginning his janitorial duties the same way he did everyday for the past two years. This day, however, Shin-ju did not greet the Cleric as he passed by Mikieru's locker.

Mikieru sat on his bench, watching Shin-ju's listless form as the boy rounded a corner and disappeared behind a row of lockers.

I knew Yoriko would not be able to keep our secret forever, Mikieru thought. Her soul is much too pure to live a lie against her only friend.

The Cleric lowered his head and closed his eyes.

I am sorry, Akira, but I cannot hold this lie for long, either, Mikieru apologized in his mind. But there is not much we can do now. I have to tell Shin-ju the truth. After all, the boy deserves more than this.

Try as he did, however, Mikieru could not find the strength to rise and approach the boy right away. He felt that he had to find the right words to say before he could confront Shin-ju with the lie they had perpetuated for two years.

•••

At the Constabulary HQ's gate, a Peco-peco carriage slowed to a halt. Its door opened slowly, and a pair of steel-toed boots stepped onto the wet pavement.

She was relatively young, yet the manner in which she carried herself exuded a bearing well beyond her years. The silver cross that hung from a choker around her neck gave testament to the rigorous training she had gone through in her youth. She was a Cleric—one of the very few remaining in Midgard today—and she was here on a personal mission, even resigning from her teacher's job in Payon to make the trip to Prontera.

She opened an umbrella and held it over her head. She exhaled, knowing that this was her trip's final destination. Adjusting her large spectacles, she took a look at the fortress-like building that rose in front of her.

"This must be the place," she said to herself, not minding the cold wind that blew at her face and long auburn hair. "Prontera Constabulary HQ."

She gave herself a few moments to stare at the HQ, as though reveling in some secret, personal victory, before she began walking towards the building's main door.

•••

End of Chapter One