Author's Notes: *sigh* Another difficult themefic prompt. (They really could have used less "generic" terms for this YST 20 challenge.) But for all my struggles, I'm actually SUPER pleased with how this one turned out...especially considering the focus is Arago, of all things. I'd always planned on incorporating a character study/short fic using Arago, but couldn't find a prompt where he really "fit." However, THIS idea came to me just last week, and frankly, I'm embarrassed it took me as long as it did to produce it.

YST, like most animes of the 80s, is pretty vague with regards to timegaps. Stuff just sort of...happens, with no real explanation as to why or what the events were to precede (or in some cases, follow) it. We know Kaosu defeated Arago during his first attempt to invade/conquer Earth. 1,000 years pass, Arago reappears, and the TV series begins. But that got me thinking. Just what WAS Arago doing in that unexplored, thousand-year stretch? Obviously he recruited the Mashou, brainwashed Lady Kayura, and just generally acted an ass. But being a demon lord (and an immortal, I presume), the concept of "time" would be less of a hindrance than it would be for say, you know, a human being. He would sort of exist "outside time," in a manner of speaking, so I don't wager he's as put out by the wait as you might expect of someone whose lifespan is dictated/controlled by the restrictions of light-distance (or just distance, if you prefer).

There's also the issue of Arago's personality, which even younger always struck me as a tad...flippant. Clearly, the guy doesn't TRY to lose (or even like it), but I always got the impression he wasn't terribly...perturbed. Like, he knew it was just a matter of time before the world was his (either through his own ingenious plotting or some failure/mistake on the part of the good guys). That if his present plan failed, he still had one more card/trick up his sleeve to fight another day. He had this...confident optimism, in a really sick and sadistic sort of way. (Which could be the effect of his giant, smiling head floating through the air, I realize.) I don't know if/how that comes across to you the reader, but I hope how I portray him in this fic articulates my interpretation better than the AN.

In any case, this fic deals with Arago's thoughts/readying his troops some years prior to the second invasion of Earth. Let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: Ronin Warriors/Yoroiden Samurai Troopers is © to Sunrise, Nagoya TV, and Sony Music Entertainment.

YST 20 Prompt 7:
Armament

The human world would be his.

He'd miscalculated things the first go-round. He'd underestimated the tenacity and strength of Kaosu, the fortitude of the human spirit. There'd been no question Kaosu would appear to defend his beloved Earth, but Arago had never anticipated his being so...formidable.

A lesser creature might have wallowed in the shame of such an embarrassing defeat—and make no mistake, the Demon Emperor held a nasty grudge—but even the greatest of warriors and the mightiest of generals fell prey to the occasional...setback. In the lifespan of an immortal, it was to be expected, every few millennia or so. Such experiences were necessary; it helped in developing a thicker skin.

Arago was a prideful and self-sustaining sort, but he knew when to cut his losses and regroup. He'd spent the last one thousand years scheming, crushing, manipulating, razing villages, assembling troops, all for the glorious return of the great Demon Sovereign of the Youjakai. No expense was spared in arming his youja soldiers, demonized spirits snatched from the bodies of the slain and sealed within the confines of dark, metal suits. They were simpletons, in a way, but possessed the malevolence necessary for unscrupulous destruction.

Of greater potential—and use—were his Mashou Generals, opportunistic humans lured into servitude by the promise of glory and strength. They had more of an...independence about them than their youja inferiors, but the greed and blood-lust fueling their ambitions made for stronger warriors, and far more profitable pawns. They could in a matter of swipes do what would take half a regiment of youjas to achieve. Never had he possessed more efficient weapons. They would serve as frontline defense against Kaosu and whoever or whatever else rose to defy him.

It was no wonder his Generals were among the most powerful of his army. They were, after all, wielders of the very armor he himself once sported in battle. Granted, they were only in part, but the devastating nature of their abilities was a testament to the majesty of his true form. The humans themselves were tools, and like any tool, would be disposed of once they had outlived their use. But through them he had recovered four of the pieces necessary for restoring his armor to its original state.

...And, there was a sick satisfaction in knowing one of mankind's own had been manipulated into wreaking havoc upon the earth.

The disassembling of his armor had been, at the time, the most grievous of his losses from his defeat at the hands of the meddlesome warrior monk, but in retrospect had proven a surprisingly beneficial twist of fate. It had, after all, given him not one suit of armor, but four, each worn by a soldier more savage and unrestrained than the next. In effect, Kaosu had only served to increase the size of his attack force, ensuring more widespread mayhem and a furthering of his control over the human world.

Even so, Kaosu was no fool. There were still five yoroi fragments unclaimed, and Kaosu would use any means necessary to prevent them from falling into the wrong hands. The monk would have likely sought bearers of his own, humans drawn to the pull of the yoroi virtues who, in their foolish sentimentality, would rise to protect "all that was good and just."

(Mankind was nauseatingly predictable in that way.)

And if such bearers existed, and would not yield, he would simply take their armors—and their lives—by force. Such was the nature of evil. It did not ask permission, nor did it care. Whatever was pleasant or advantageous or desirable was obtained, forcefully if needed, consequences be damned. It was what made "goodness" so weak. Light was a gentleman. Where darkness deceived, light revealed. Where darkness was cold, light was warmth personified.

Light was the eternal foil to dark.

And he hated it.

But the armors in and of themselves were neither "good," nor were they inherently "bad." They simply were. Their powers and abilities could be used, to whatever end, at the discretion of whomever wielded them. Which was what made the uncertainty of the remaining five so...troubling. Arago knew better than anyone the strength—and danger—of free will. And he was smart enough not to underestimate Kaosu—or humans, for that matter—a second time. They had the potential to prove a serious threat to his plan, and while a thousand years was nothing to one of his own kind, Arago felt he had been patient enough.

Time was coming to a close. Soon he would invade. His troops were armed and ready for the attack. His Mashou were bloodthirsty and prepped for war. Their armors pulsed with the intensified energies of the Youjakai, the youngest of his generals set to lead the assault. The unworthy had been weeded out; the practice grounds of his castle were littered with the remains of the weak and deficient. The youjas drilled daily, their chains greased and spears sharp.

And if absolutely all else failed, there was always his reserve. He still had his trump card. He still had her.

...But no matter.

Let Kaosu come. He would destroy him, and his "champions" too. Nothing would stand in his way. He was long overdue glory. Victory was within reach now.

The human world would be his.