DISCLAIMER: I don't own Shaman King!
What other way to celebrate Ren's birthday than to introduce his view into the story? Mwaha 8D
So, now that you all see that they've lost certain memories, I'll say that I really wanted to see how the characters would react to each other in this situation. I feel that I kinda messed up with Ren a little, though, and made him a bit too violent. *pokes Ren only to get stabbed in the nose* O.O ouchies. *huggles Ren against his will* Istillloveyou~~
We actually get to see some action! Wooooot! Enjoy :D
Two
Grasping his head in pain, the dark-skinned boy sat up and rubbed his temples. He had a bulbous nose and a puffy afro, but not much else could be said about his appearance. An apprehensive jaguar spirit crouched next to him.
The boy's few memories came in painful bursts. He heard gunshots, saw blood, the bodies of a man and woman… It was Christmas…
My name is… Chocolove, he thought to himself, attempting to make sense of things. My dream… I want to make people…laugh…
He blinked as if struggling to get used to light. How could he want to make people laugh when he'd seen such terrible things? Sighing in tiredness, he lifted his head to have the jaguar nuzzle him affectionately, causing a chuckle to escape from him – it sounded both familiar and alien to him at the same time, if that was possible.
"Hey, Mic," he greeted as he stood, looking around. I need to get out of here, he thought, pushing away the memories. There must be some way…
()()()()()()()()
Manta thought he must've heard wrong, and he chuckled nervously. "Uh, Yoh-kun? Don't you remember me? Manta? You know… your friend."
Yoh's mouth was agape with confusion, and he lowered his katana and took a small step back. "I… Should I remember you?" he asked, brows furrowed.
Manta blinked, shocked. However, before he could totally freak out or something, he reanalyzed the situation. He couldn't remember why Yoh was his friend, but he knew Yoh was his best friend. Mosuke couldn't remember much anything either; perhaps Yoh was the same?
Yoh stood up straight and scratched the back of his head. All of his earlier defensiveness had evaporated. "Sorry," he apologized, voice taut with bewilderment. "I can't remember much anything at all… neither can Amidamaru," he added, with a slight elbow jerk towards the spirit.
Manta nodded. "That's all right," he said, even though it didn't feel that way to him, even though he understood. He shrugged his shoulders, feeling a little bit sheepish. "We don't know much of anything, either."
"Yoh-dono…," Yoh's spirit breathed; Manta just barely caught the sound.
"Hm?" Blatantly, Yoh turned to the spirit accompanying him. "What is it, Amidamaru?"
Amidamaru sighed and gave up the quiet act, turning to Manta's spirit ally. "Who are you?" he demanded.
The sword smith jerked in surprise, then bristled. "Why d'you ask?"
Amidamaru narrowed his eyes and turned to Yoh. "I don't believe that spirit is trustworthy."
"What?" Mosuke bellowed. "What do you mean?"
Amidamaru gave him a 'you're kidding me' look. "For one, you won't tell me your name."
The sword smith narrowed his eyes. "Mosuke."
Amidamaru lifted an eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak, but Yoh beat him to it.
"I think it'll be all right to travel with them. I mean, we're all trying to find a way out, aren't we?" he pointed out, giving a lazy grin that Manta immediately recognized and smiled at. However, after a moment, the short boy's smile disappeared.
"Uh… Which way is out, do you think?" he asked.
Yoh looked around for a moment, an unreadable glint in his eyes, before grinning again at Manta. "I don't know. But it'll all work out."
()()()()()()()()
It was fire, all fire. Nothing but suffocating smoke and fearsome fire. The scene struck into his heart, piercing deeper than anything, a blow so low so that it felt like nothing could ever compare.
Separated from him by the flames were the bodies of his parents, their should-be-cold flesh burning in the heat. But, just as he watched, the fire consumed them and hid them from view.
However, there was one other person in the room, whom the flames seemed to lick but not harm. Long brown hair fell around his shoulders and down his back, and when he looked back, his eyes were full of disgust.
With a strangled yelp, the boy sat bolt upright, panting. The boy was very feminine in appearance, and wore a plaid overcoat over his shoulders with navy pants and a button-up shirt. He had green hair that stuck out surprisingly attractively on either side of his head, and his eyes, wide with alarm, were green as well.
My name is Lyserg, was his first thought. His eyes caught sight of the mechanical device strapped to his arm, where a classic diamond-shaped crystal peeked out of it; hidden in its recesses was a long wire, he knew… I am… a dowser. A… a Dithel…
A sudden pain gripped his mind, and Lyserg clutched at his head, gritting his teeth with a hiss. The vision – no, the memory of the flames, of the boy who murdered his parents… Of Hao…
A pink pixie-like spirit came closer to Lyserg, concerned, but at the moment, he could hardly care. Lyserg knew the face of Hao, he knew it. The face belonged to another… It belonged to… Yoh.
Without any precaution to his foggy surroundings, Lyserg stood and held out his arm.
"Morphine," he called tersely to his spirit. "Into the pendulum."
()()()()()()()()
The four, two human and two spirits (who kept glancing daggers at each other), walked in an awkward silence through the fog. At least, Yoh figured it was awkward in some part of his mind – most of his consciousness was hell-bent on trying to exorcise the dream/memory from his mind. He hoped it was just a dream, but it had felt so real… The eyes he had seen vulnerable, unusually vulnerable, if he could figure out what 'usually' meant in this place. The eyes of that person had seemed more than familiar, but he couldn't remember who they belonged to – nor did he truly want to know. If it had been a memory, then he must have killed that person…
"So…," Manta said suddenly, startling Yoh out of his thoughts. "Do you remember anything?" the short boy asked, looking a little out of place as he looked up at Yoh, who blinked.
I can't tell him I think I killed someone… "Only that if I don't get back in time to make dinner, my girlfriend will kill me. Or… I think it's my girlfriend." Yoh scratched the back of his head sheepishly.
Manta chuckled. "Good thing we're too young to be worrying about stupid stuff like marriage – if she was your fiancée or something, you'd be stuck with her forever!"
Yoh laughed for the first time since he'd come to this… odd place. It felt good to laugh. "Yeah, good thing." He looked at Manta. "What do you remember?"
Manta let out another little laugh. "Uh… Well, just you, and a bunch of stuff that really probably has no use here. And I woke up thinking that I had a test today."
Yoh chortled. "What a way to wake up."
Manta cracked a grin. "Yeah."
Yoh opened his mouth to speak, but a sixth sense in his mind clicked, and his eyes widened.
"Hehehe…"
Out of pure instinct, Yoh immediately unsheathed Harusame and oversouled Amidamaru, standing protectively in front of Manta. "Who's there?" he called, attempting to sift through the fog with his eyes.
The echoing laughter came again, and Yoh thought he caught a wisp of a inhuman, ghostly shadow dance through the mist. He tried to track it, but as soon as he saw it, it disappeared.
"Y-Yoh!" A strangled garble came from Manta, and Yoh whipped around to see that the boy's mouth and nose were submerged in a whip of water that wrapped around him in near entirety.
()()()()()()()()
Chocolove peered into the fog, once again unsure about his direction. It felt like he was going in circles, but for all he knew, the exit could have been right next to him and he wouldn't have known.
"What do you think, Mic?" he asked quietly. For the first time, he wondered how Mic had become his spirit ally – as well as the question of how he had become a shaman in the first place. He hated how he could only remember two things about himself, things that didn't really make sense when put together. But he had no way of knowing why things were this way, so why bother agonizing over it?
His spirit, being unable to speak in a human language, let out a murmur of dissent at the question, obviously as confused at Chocolove felt.
Chocolove sighed and began walking again, shivering at the damp air. Despite the weather, however, the back of his neck felt like it was on fire, like someone was watching him. He struggled against the urge, but he finally glanced over his shoulder.
He saw nothing at all.
Letting out a breath he hadn't known that he'd been holding in, he continued on. Nonetheless, a minute later, he stopped again, but this time for a slightly different reason.
Out of the fog appeared a figure, walking straight in his direction, a glowing... crystal of sorts pointing directly at Chocolove, attached to a device on the figure's arm by a wire, which was also glowing slightly. It took Chocolove a moment to realize that it was spiritual power… oversoul.
The new figure, a green-haired boy with similar colored eyes, stopped just five feet away from him, eyes narrowed.
"You're not him."
()()()()()()()()
Why is everyone dead?
Dim light pervaded everywhere in the dank underground room. The stairs he had been following ended abruptly at a rancid-smelling pool, where shapes could just be made out under the surface…
Why are you killing everyone?
"…You must destroy... or be destroyed…"
He wanted to vomit at the smell, at the twisted feeling in his stomach. Dead… All those shapes under the surface of the water were dead people.
Why are humans so dirty?
"…The one who wins is justice …and the one who loses is evil..."
No one can help it.
The boy didn't sit up, but his molten gold eyes snapped open, partially hidden by his deep navy bangs. His hair was shaped into a tongari, a large spike that went straight up at the back of his head that would look terrible on anyone else, but complimented his appearance. His muscles were lean but easily identifiable, and his pale skin was scattered with light scars that were only seen upon closer inspection. He wore dark pants, and a simple red vest over his torso.
The boy blinked, staring up into the fog. In his peripheral vision, he could just make out the figure of his spirit ally, Bason, but he made no sign that he had seen the spirit. It was just a tool, anyways.
I need to get out of here, he thought, though he couldn't think of a reason why he had to. He tightened his fists, and he realized that there was something long in his right hand. Slowly, he sat up and looked at it, immediately recognizing it.
Its main, middle section was that of a maroon staff. On one end, considered the back, was a small, deadly spike like one would find on a spear, and on the other end was a large, curved blade, cut into a design that was both flashy and fatal. At the base of this last part was where a tiny charm was tied.
It was a Kwan Dao, one of his weapons of choice.
He gripped the weapon and held it with one hand, pressing it against the same forearm. It felt perfect as he held it up to his face, admiring its deadliness. He let out a small grin (though it did appear to be mixed with a grimace), and he rose to his feet and stood up straight, staring determinedly out into the fog.
This place wasn't his home. He couldn't remember what his true home was, nor if he ever had one, but he was going to escape from this place. No, he wasn't going to escape – he was going to annihilate everyone who stood in his way, and then leave.
My name is Ren.
He grinned again, this time wickedly.
