"Sunday (Moby Remix)" by David Bowie. Sometimes you play a song on a loop and it fits perfectly with a scene, or a whole chapter. Or maybe the whole "Heathen" album if you're feelin' up to it. I've been playing it on a loop as I wrote this chapter and the last (should've mentioned it sooner, huh?) Just a bit of ramble for anyone who cares. Toodles!
I don't remember the funeral. I doubt there even was one, although with my memory skills I doubt that counts for much. And I've never asked. Not once, not to anybody. It's just one of those things you don't tell or ask anyone lest it bring up painful memories.
But, emotionally at least, there was a funeral spanning several days. Just another word for 'day of mourning', but that's what a funeral's for, isn't it? The first day after... whatever it was, she stayed in her bedroom the whole time. Or at least I thought, because I didn't see her once that day. It wasn't just eerie, it was wrong. Mother figures turned to their children in times of crisis, didn't they? Maybe I was still some other adults' problem, but I'd sure hope not. In that case, I'd be no one's problem, wouldn't I? Not Yasaka's, not Ophis's, not Sensei's, not...
Irina's, or my parents' problem. Absolutely no one. No source of comfort, reliance, or inner strength for anyone, that's me!
That day I'd spent most of it wandering about in some kind of impatient daze. I think I cried a couple times: small, mute and pathetic displays, kind of like a tree falling in a forest where there's no one to hear the ear-ringing crash as it strikes things with a pronounced bang. I didn't feel agression, or anger, or even necessarily sadness. Just... that same emptiness that had always been there. There was something big, something essential; now there's no functionality, no purpose, no way anything can continue. Kunou was part of something big without anyone knowing it: the hammer in a pistol, let's say. When you lose someone, it's always impossible for anything to continue at all; and every time life smiles and throws you a few very enthusiastic fingers.
That night I dreamed complacently of snapping the necks of those who had killed her. Not like the vividity of the forest dream or the peculiarities of the flying dreams, but rather like a matter-of-fact observation. I traveled back in time to when they were to take her, and I was ready. They weren't. Kunou ran up to me and I hugged her, and we reached an understanding.
And then I was awake. It was the second day. Sensei came back, offered his condolences, and did what he could to comfort us. He tried to hug me, but I just backed away. He saw there was no point in trying, and I hated to do it, but there was some bitter authority to it that I reveled in for all the ten seconds it lasted. I heard him do a lot of talking with Yasaka in cautious tones, like exchanging advice. I heard a lot of it from my room. I wanted Ophis to come, oh how I wanted Ophis to come! She'd say "I respectfully ask to screw your opinion," or something like that, and see through my seeming cold and distant. But one can only hope, right? She never did.
That night I didn't do anything like cry myself to sleep - that would've been extremely cliche, even says the one with his emotions bouncing about between his skull. No, I preferred to just talk to myself - and to the unseen Ophis, commenting how no one really likes a grandiose late entrance. "But I'll take it," I said. "Sure, I'll take one. Be as late as you want, just show up at all if you can." Very dramatic and heartfelt stuff, y'see. I missed her, and didn't dream at all.
I woke up on the third day and somehow sensed things had changed. I didn't bother laying around - of course, I rarely did anyway - but almost immediately sprung straight up and went to join Sensei and Yasaka, who were already waiting. I was climbing into one of the high chairs at the kitchen table when Yasaka opened her mouth.
"We can't stay here," she declared. Nothing too weird about that. Of course, sometimes you have to ask.
"Why?"
"If we stay, something'll get us," Sensei replied. "It'll wait and in time it'll kill you where you stand. I've seen it," he added in an uncharacteristically wise way. "Do you know what that thing is?" Of course I did!
"A Devil?" He gave a sad smile and looked over at Yasaka. She remained almost as expressionless as me on a typical day.
"It's a Devil of sorts," he said. "But sometimes it's easier to externalize things and make them ridiculously distant than accept that they're inside you. It's the demon that is grief, and it'll kill us all if we're not careful." (Good save right there.)
And that made sense. And as a kid, it was something of an eye-opener, true or not. Not everything was some monster from the outside. Often the person you're most powerless against is yourself, right? And the only option would be to leave something behind or get dragged down in the process. I knew in that moment that I could hate it all I wanted, but Devils weren't all we have to worry about.
"I don't know where we'll be going, Issei, but it'll be away from here. If you want to be optimistic, you can call it a change of pace and a different lifestyle. But we can't stay, that's for certain. We'll be leaving sometime today or tomorrow, whichever you'd prefer - "
"Leave now," I said before she could ever even finish.
So we did.
And as you can expect, this leads to some major changes. I never saw that house again, and as the car pulled away, I saw what someone else - someone I can't remember - had said about how sterile it was, almost intruding on the green and brown of the world with its flat gray stone and glaring windows and too precisely square shape. It looked a bit like a cage, or a cell in a psych ward. As you can imagine, it probably had a bit of that in mind. I half-expected every other building we passed to look just like it, taunting me and my inability to escape it. But it didn't. It stayed. I've since found it was the most repulsive memory I have of that whole time. Sometimes I bother asking how it could be worse than Kunou's death, even.
We stopped somewhere by the ocean. There was a hotel there, or something like it. I couldn't help but think it looked somewhat new, like one of those museum souvenirs designed to look aged and worn for no other purpose than the illusion.
There was a little park nearby, with benches facing inward towards a little duck pond and some facing outward, towards a rock path and the ledge it skirted. No, that's a lie: there was a strip of grass, about six feet wide, separating travelers from the precarious danger they'd face.
I didn't want to stay in the hotel. I can confirm this because I honestly can't remember what it looked like outside of what I've already said. I spent most of the time outside by the park, and the traumatic irony was definitely lost on me. Most of the time one of the two kept track of me, and that's where I spent a lot of my time... just waiting. No idea for what.
My nights were all dreamless, and possibly sleepless, but none of it was worth remembering. I don't even remember how long we were there, just waiting. I could tell we were waiting for something.
Then there was something.
I got up that morning and went to get breakfast. Yasaka and Sensei were both nowhere to be seen. I shrugged it off, ate, and thought about how I could entertain myself today. No surprise, you can guess where I went.
I sat down at one of the benches I talked about, facing the ocean. It was a little rotted, but the paint was new, so it must still hold, right? There was something familiar about it, like seeing something from the other side. Fly over water, walk on land. Over time the water seemed to make its presence known, like it was afraid to talk before then. It roared and hissed against the rock. I should've noticed that there were no birds, yet I didn't. Of course I didn't. I never do.
Nor did I notice it when someone sat down next to me. I'll grant myself some leeway for that one, for reasons you can probably guess - what was there to hear?
"You're - " I jumped and gave a little squeal. I heard a familiar kind of "huh, look at that" chuckle.
"Ophis?" She nodded.
"I was going to say, 'you're certainly getting mopier every time I see you.' Which is completely true. Given, I understand why, but..."
"But what?"
"But it's still hard to see it. That's part of the reason I'm here right now. I would say 'sorry for your loss', offer my condolences and all that fancy crap, but I doubt either one of us is in the mood for that. So, just know I'm very sorry. For everything. There, I said it. Why are people always apologizing to each other when it comes to anything out of their control? Never makes sense."
I remained silent throughout all of this, bringing the corners of my mouth up in an awkward grimacing smile. Then I felt her poke me in the arm. Time to respond, stupid.
"You just contradicted yourself," I responded. "And I want to know exactly what you mean, so you can continue talking."
"I was hoping you'd say that. You'll find that a lot of what I'm going to say is likely to sound kinda batshit sane, so buckle up. But it'll be worth it, and with any luck you'll come out of this a better person with a better understanding of the world."
I nodded casually, and she continued. With a question.
"Do you think what happens to you is real?" I must've jerked back in startlement, because it sure looked and felt that way.
"What do you mean?"
"Your memories, your dreams, your interaction with the internal and external worlds as a whole. How much of it do you think actually happens?" It took me a bit shorter than I expected to realize I was already giving a response, almost rehearsed. I didn't think it was.
"My memories aren't perfect, and dreams are just dreams. All I really know is what isn't real." I heard her wince, and she delivered the bad news. But she continued with this.
"Let's say your memory's perfect. What would that tell you about what's happened - the good, the bad, the ugly? You and I both know the answer: your parents were killed before your very eyes, and you lost your best friend because the power of Christ compelled her. All of those things you've told me would have to be true, and things like those aren't grown out of. They can't be, and shouldn't be."
"Where are you going with this?"
"...Aaaand your dreams. The ones of flying, killing things, having overall a good time. Let's say those were real too. What would that tell you?" Not a rhetorical question.
"It'd mean... I do those things... when I think I'm asleep and dreaming..." She rocked her head from side to side in a "close enough" gesture.
"Close enough," she confirmed almost comically. "But... This is where things start getting messy. Let's move from what's real into... what's a bit more difficult to explain. How do you think those dreams would work, if you do these things while you're sleeping?"
I had to chew on that for a moment. Then I replied.
"I'd have to go somewhere between the time I would fall asleep and wake up again. Except... I don't ever see that." I find myself thinking now how malleable I was, and how that was no accident. This was only happening when it did because I was malleable. This conversation in a new and strange place with a close friend following a extremely negatively life-changing event? I'm thinking about making a butter joke, but it keeps slipping away, ha-ha.
"Yeah. Here comes the bonkers stuff. What exactly is a dream? Can you describe what a dream is for me, Issei?"
"It's... when you're asleep, and your mind wanders. Weird things happen." I spoke slowly, already sensing something cracking.
"But let's say it's not just your mind, or even just your mind. Let's say... you're Doctor Jekyll, or some other character like that. When you dream, things get a bit hazy, and most of the time you're completely out of control, like someone else is driving this bus. Let's say pretty soon your feet are moving and someone else is doing all the walking for you. This other person is like a roommate in the apartment between your ears, or a wingman, or something like that. You get the day shift, they take night shift."
"Are you saying I am actually two people?" And then there was a grin.
"You betcha."
"And what does that tell me about anything?"
"A lot. You were six. You just saw your parents killed, and little lady-friend's in just as much danger as you are, or maybe more, depending on how you see it. You hear some voice that's not yours, you black out and when you wake up someone's saying you killed them. Repeat that back to me without context, if you please."
("Balance Breaker"?)
And you can imagine she didn't stop. She just kept going.
"When they said you killed them all, they were as close to right as they could be. Also, have you ever wondered how a six-year-old didn't react horribly to finding out they just murdered a gaggle of demons to death?" Pause for an answer.
("From what Irina tells us, you used a power that might've killed you too.")
"I did... something. It was dangerous, and it worked. I saved her." My eyes drifted down again, and I thought that Ophis wasn't there as I had needed her to be. She was talking, trying to explain something important, but some part of me felt that didn't matter. This was all getting somehow unbelievable, but not because it was difficult to comprehend. It was hard because I wanted it to be real. All of it. And I also wanted Ophis to somehow act differently, but there was something so right to this that it felt incorrect.
"Yes, keep going," Ophis snapped me back out of my thoughts. "You were saying?" I guess I was getting a feel for what she was asking.
"I... It was something that I couldn't understand. Not even a part of me, in a way. It was something new."
A long pause.
"What do you think that was, Issei?"
"Something powerful, something... beyond?"
"Ancient, perhaps?" I nodded. "A Dragon, maybe?"
I gave her a blank look and tried to laugh critically. I couldn't.
"Now let me tell you a story of my own," she began. She rarely talked about her own life, and now I had the makings of a reason why. It didn't make for the best story. It was too vague to be a metaphor or to even be entertaining, and - at least you'd imagine - too alien to be true.
"I'd hoped to tell you later, but you know how that always goes. No time like the present." She looked up at me and grinned in her smart-mouthed way, then her eyes drifted down. I followed them to the water. It looked a bit silvery. And the silver tongue began to wag.
"I wasn't born here; in fact, I don't think I was ever born at all. Everything was... empty. Monotone. Blank slate, whatever you want to call it. And it was beautiful. I'd known nothing else, but I doubt anyone cares what they don't know until they know it. I loved it there as I'd loved nothing else. I was alone. I was silent. I was boundless and infinite. I was free...
"...And then, one day... I find myself being ripped out. Hard. I did everything I could to hold on, even tried to make them stop, but I couldn't understand much of anything - not who they were, how they thought, why they were there or how I could stop them. And in the end, my blissful unawareness made me powerless to stop them, even with the potency I knew I possessed that was far greater than their own.
"And that's how I was born. I fell onto some sidewalk somewhere, tumbling end over end, and terrified of the world that was. So, what did I do, you may ask? I panicked. I got lost. I made mistakes... and then, I started realizing what I'd seen, and what I'd learned from it. I used that, and eventually learned to use what powers I possessed to change myself. I became a witness to this world, I guess you could say, and I learned how much I can wonder about you, as a whole and as individuals.
"Then I learned about Devils. Magic. Death. And so much more beyond what your imagination tells you is still somehow in your understanding. Well, whatever your imagination says, it's just trying to cover its own ass. And worst of all, I learned about Dragons.
"They were once great and powerful and abundant. I was one of them, maybe the first. And I couldn't accept that I could be the last. There are some out there still, and some who've lost themselves - literally. They've been dismembered and scattered among other living things, lying dormant and powerless. I learned this, and as you can imagine, this had me downright terrified. I may have learned humanity, but my own kind was dying. What was I to do?
"I found you, Issei. My best friend. And possibly our only hope. In more ways than one. Do you want to know why?"
It took me a moment to realize she was done monologuing, and I blinked. It was the thing that got my parents killed, nearly killed me, and killed our would-be killers to save my friend's life? Not even close, said the man with a lit match in hand.
"Why?" And she resumed.
"You have a Dragon in you too, and a powerful one." And the man smiled and dropped his dynamite. "It's active, and it's alive, and it's as obnoxious as guys come. I think you've met him before, in your own way. Ddraig?"
The Welsh Dragon. Not just any, but the Welsh Dragon. It had killed, it had saved... and it had failed.
I got up and began to walk away. This wasn't right. I've said before it was so unsettling because of how right it sounded? At this point, it sounded impossible! Besides, why would I want anything to do with something like that!?
I'd forgotten where I was going, if there was anywhere at all. I guess not. But wherever I fell, it was in the grass. I was on my knees. I looked up.
It was a playground. The expansive equipment was colored in heavy red and purple. The dead air and Devil-distorted sky.
I started to cry, no shame anywhere in saying it. I remember sinking my head to the soft gravel in some sick imitation of yoga. I felt a hand on my back and wanted to run away. I didn't; in that moment, I likely would've said that I simply didn't care.
That same hand reached my head, and gently lifted it in a gesture that would've implied something maternal, but in this case was something more universal: the comfort of a friend.
I hugged Ophis tightly in that moment, sobbing shamelessly, and in those moments I also would have likely said I didn't care if she confessed everything she'd said was total bullshit. In fact, I can remember: that's all I was thinking then. And what did she have to add on at the very end, to get me right there when and where I was most defenseless?
"I'm here for you now. We all are."
I just kept on sobbing into her shoulder. Eventually I got a hold of myself, and I'd stay in control for a long time.
"Was everything you said true?" I asked over her shoulder, still hugging to her as if we each expected the other to be carried away.
"All of it. I'm... sorry, the way we've had to do this." One last sniffle, and then my emotions were my own again. And I knew she wouldn't be lying.
"Tell me everything. And I'll promise not to yell at you to shut up."
She did. Yasaka was leader of an alliance of mythical creatures who were more like humans than any legend would have you believe. She herself was a nine-tailed fox, as was Kunou (well, not anymore, but...). Sensei was the Hindu God of Destruction, Shiva (he'd never lied about anything, had he?).
"I could even tell you about those neo-Satanists, like the 1983 Italy Massacre, except that's a completely different sack of steaming dump to fiddle around in," she'd added at some point. I'm still not sure what she meant.
Let's say that this is where the change became permanent. Things were no longer empty. I knew. And as you can imagine, now that meant I was destined to be thrown straight into the ring with the lions. As a Dragon: infinite, vengeful, and rejoicing.
...
Okay, so that SHOULD be the end of this prologue. I should warn you: this whole thing is more of a simple setup than a taste of what comes next, if I'm perfectly honest. All ideas suggested pointed in that ddirection. It might be violent, it might be erotic, it might be cryptic, and might be just another fantasy reimagining a fantasy. It might be great, and it is also extremely likely to crash and burn. We'll just all have to wait and see.
You might also see something of a misunderstanding of canon concepts. Funny story: my only true knowledge of Highschool DxD is from the first three or so light novels and some of the anime. The rest was either provided or I simply researched it. I've seen some fascinating stuff here, but it isn't much. So if things seem off, that's why. Just a little story to share. Also, alterations made for the purpose of the story at hand. Nothing too upsetting, I hope.
I want to say thank you to everyone who's enjoyed this, and those who don't but are still reading for... some reason. It means a lot, and you're all amazing people.
Have an astronomical day!
- The Toa of Science Fiction :-{ )
(P.S.: the 1983 Italy Massacre is in reference to "Takara", a Transformers fanfic for anyone who likes the lore accompanying shapeshifting action figures, real-world history, and/or shameless self-promotion!)