Disclaimer:
All canon characters, material and content (c) Takafumi Adachi
Original characters, material and content (c) KYL-T7
The celestial tribunal murmured amongst themselves – a foreboding sense of dread looming over their heads. It could not possibly be true – even if this man was who he claimed to be, there was no way that he could execute his threat. The original power had withered away a long time ago – it had preserved the life of the Legendary Blader of Summer.
"No traces of such power should even exist apart from the archer," Kronos muttered irritably. "It is time that you stopped fretting over ghosts."
"'Ghosts,' you say?"
"Of course," he reiterated. "When that foolish child tried to engage in single combat with Nemesis, he narrowly escaped the clutches of death, itself. It was all thanks to his own spirit that the boy was spared."
"He is not a boy anymore … and even so," Aquario spoke, "we should investigate this stranger's claims."
Despite her words, Scythe Kronos merely rolled his eyes; he and his brethren were legendary spirits – the same ones who had fought against the Black Sun. Suddenly an outsider shows up and they are ready to entertain such nonsense … It did not sit well with the cloaked being.
Supressing the urge to speak, he watched with a calculated indifference as the doors parted and silence reigned over the hall of the heavens. Could one person truly possess such a level of authority, he wondered. It was practically unheard of, or so he believed as the hooded figure swept across the glass-like floor. His spider-black shroud was darker than the uncharted depths of space and matter, his steps resulting in lightning and small bursts of stars.
Upon reaching the circle before the Court, he came to a halt making no attempt to speak.
Turning to face the leader of the zodiac – their king, for all intents and purposes, by conquest and election – Kronos narrowed his gaze, urging Leone to say something. Anything, really, to get a reaction from the hooded stranger. Rising to his paws from the throng of veiled stars, the lion stalked down the stairs, his flanks bristling as he felt the guarded gaze of the brotherhood upon his mane. Coming to stand before the stranger, he transformed himself into a man – donning Spartan regalia and brandishing a sword at his side.
Raising his head, a spark of recognition swept through Leone's hazel-wood eyes.
"Leōn," he said, the very mention of the traditional name causing his hackles to rise.
"Drákōn." He replied with a mock inclination of his head.
Narrowing his gaze, Leone stared at berry-tinted orbs – a sickening, unstable colour, cured by animosity. "I assume you are prepared to address the tribunal."
Drákōn asserted his position with a cold gleam in his eyes, as the younger celestial bodies trained their spears on his figure, fearful for their king's life. Not that he had any intention of harming the monarch, no matter how estranged. Having taken a seat upon the throne, he watched as its branches converged to form the face of a lion.
"Proceed," Leone murmured, his tone guarded and impartial.
"Tell me – legendary spirits – how does it feel to have bladers?"
For a moment, they were shocked at the blatant audacity of such a question before reaching a consensus. The humans– their bladers were their partners. Their family. Their children and equals.
"Interesting; as I recall, Orion was utilized as a tool – a means to an illegitimate end for that 'blader for hire.' What of Aquario – your human retired … Hasn't even launched for the sake of spending time with you–"
"Don't you dare speak of her!" Aquario roared threateningly.
"As we all know, if we are chained– enslaved to these humans, we have no free will. And what of you, Leōn and Pḗgasos – your humans compete for sport. Recklessly. The mare has been subjected to merciless endeavours – whether it be for the fate of the Earth or mere competition. Have the humans ever extended their gratitude towards her – do they feel any for the grace bestowed? Or you, Your Majesty," Drákōn snarled softly. "Is it not true that the Legendary Blader of Spring nearly ended your life as you knew it on Earth? Did he not make you yield to your tears as you submitted to his will?"
For what felt like an eternity, the tribunal stilled, each trapped in their own jaded thoughts. Drákōn could not be trusted, yet his words were valid … Cancer (or "Gasher" as he had been more commonly known) had been commanded– used by Tetsuya Watarigani to harm and lay traps for the innocent. Kronos had been garnished to seek revenge on behalf of the Beylin Fist. "Striker" or Monoceros had been cultivated to allow an arrogant child – Masamune Kadoya – to achieve his personal pursuits, without so much as a "thank you." The eagle had morphed into a monster due to mind-numbing pain … The list, essentially, went on with no end in sight. Despite the numerous cases, Leone wasn't prepared to pass judgement. Not yet.
Despite all of these terrible things, he and Kyoya rarely fought any more … Their thoughts were often one in the same. You could not describe one without realizing that you were speaking of the other, as well. It was impossible. They were a team – two halves of the same whole.
"What do you propose we – the Court – do about these allegations?"
From the smirk he received, he could tell that Drákōn had been waiting for that question.
"The Court," he repeated mockingly. What had they ever done for him? When man had stolen his power – raw and untainted – they had used him to perform the work of evil, while his comrades had looked on. He had been alive and completely dead, all at once, as he had laid armies and legions of the innocent to rest. "You need not exercise your discretion."
"Come again," Kronos rasped, breaking his silence.
"Do not concern yourselves – I can see it in your eyes. You will protect your humans; the war I intend to wage is mine alone."
"What do you mean 'protect?' Protect them from what?"
"Remember this," Drákōn growled, "my eyes were always watching … Rid the universe of the species that hath spawned the greatest sorrow – those who sinned against the innocent. Or stand alongside them– your captors, and fall as I purge this world of its deadliest disease."
Admittedly, every spirit present feared for their safety and that of their respective bladers, but there were those who still questioned the validity of the threat.
"How do you propose to execute such a threat," Kronos asked in a saucy tone.
"I do not issue threats … only warnings."
Without another word, the shroud of darkness swept his hood to the side and Leone immediately felt bile rise in the back of his throat. Drákōn had adopted a new form …
†††
J.T. frowned, for he could not understand the looks of concern etched onto the faces of those around him. The owners of TC were the exception – they were the blue-haired devil's parents; it was their job to be concerned … but the others confused him. They were all behaving as though a best friend's life hung by a mere thread instead of seeing the situation for what it really was. Regardless of his current state, that bastard had hurt Theodore. He had exerted far more ferocity than what any bey battle could warrant, rendering the Australian manager unconscious.
It had been … brutal, to say the least, yet these fools were acting like kicked, lovesick puppies. Especially that bitch … he seethed internally. His eyes were magnetically drawn to Anashi, and it infuriated him to no end. He could remember that day in the training facility when Miyako had approached him. She had swaggered over with all the confidence in the world, her eyes shining with appreciation for his form. It was obvious that she liked him, and if asked he had to admit that she was hot, as well. She had voluminous silky hair, smooth skin and gorgeous eyes, but he had been far more preoccupied … by a certain brunette.
Upon seeing Anashi for the first time, he had felt his heart still. He had been drawn to her innocent autumn-coloured eyes, rosy lips and her body had practically begged for his attention. He would never admit it, but he had never felt such a rush upon seeing a girl who made him lose all control. He had just barely managed to keep himself in check – trying to play it off by acting suave and charming – but everything in his head had told him that she would be an entertaining little thing if he could have his way with her.
He had even gone as far as tracking down which hotel she and the rest of the team had been staying at to connect with her. He had written a letter, leaving it in front of the team's room, asking that she meet him by the port. But in the following hours of the next day he had found the very same letter in front of his own doorway, ripped to pieces. It had pissed him off – it still did, but it made him all the more curious to know more about her. It added to her allure.
He could envision it … even now. He could just picture what it would be like – what it would feel like to hear her soft cries as he pinned her up against a wall and took–
"Fuck!" He hissed as a searing wave of pain washed over his head, causing everyone to look up from what they were doing. "Uh, sorry … Just a headache. I'm just gonna go get some water."
Excusing himself from the group he headed for the vending machine, only to stop when he heard a gravel-like voice speak up from behind him. Turning to face the medical assistant stationed at the front desk, his frown deepened.
"What did you just say to me?"
Looking up, as though pulled from the trance of her work, her brow furrowed. "I didn't say anything."
Huffing, he turned to the kiosk, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw his reflection. Blood was slowly starting to trickle down the side of his face, collecting at the curve of his ear. Pulling his hood over his head, he quickly darted into the nearest restroom, having forgotten the woman. Once he was securely inside, he locked the door and shook his hood to the side, only to see that blood was still slowly seeping from his head.
Turning the faucet, he collected some warm water with his hands, watching as his fingertips were stained red as he attempted to wash away the coagulating substance. Reaching for a small dispenser of paper towels, he held a clump to the side of his head, only to pull away a bloody mass of paper. Frowning, he threw it away and pressed close to the mirror, brushing his hair to the side to examine the damage. There, entrenched in the bed of blonde roots, were three distinct bloody claw marks. Before he could investigate further, he felt the room's temperature drop to the point where he was glad that he had donned a sweater. As he got ready to leave, the lights flickered, and he felt a strange weight encircle his neck. Thinking nothing of it, he brushed the feeling away until it returned vehemently, seizing the column of his throat before he could reach the deadbolt.
As he struggled to catch a breath, a cave-like voice ghosted above the curve of his ear. It was a strange feeling – to want to squirm under a scorching grasp but held in place by a venomously subarctic voice.
Harm my sacrificial Flame … and I will slash more than your scalp … Understand? the voice whispered as an invisible tail lovingly drew itself over his Adam's apple.
Nodding – anything to make the invisible force release its hold on his neck – J.T. watched as the lights flickered once more. Briefly, he wondered if it was merely his imagination, as his vision was beginning to blur in response to the burning sensation in his lungs … but his thoughts were soon dismissed. Completely.
In the very centre of the mirror he had looked into only moments before, there was a strangely carved smiley face. Its eyes had been scratched out – claw marks forming 'x's in their place – and, although it was smiling, it was nothing more than a messy maw as the tongue had been ripped from its mouth and had been drawn off to the side … bloody and raw.
†††
In an isolated region of the world – far from the reach of man – a figure was poised against a mountainside, watching as the valley below was submerged by a blanket of mist. The weather was growing colder and soon it would be time to move on. Almost twenty years ago he had felt the resurgent presence of a familiar power … and he could feel it even now. It had been a non-stop hunt … Chasing after something he thought had been lost in the shadow of time. Sometimes the presence was strong, burning like an inferno, and at other times it ceased to exist. A capricious beacon.
Everything – his instincts and his general perception of the world around him – told him that some of the answers could be found in Japan. A thought which caused his stomach to turn sour. The terrain was minimal, but the population was … daunting. He would be recognized in a matter of moments if the right person or crowd saw him. Even worse than that, there were familiar faces – people who he knew and who knew him in return. He was not ready to bridge that gap.
Following the events of the would-be apocalypse, he had retreated from the known world, content to live in the margins of society as he had begun to map out what his next course of action would be. It had been relatively simple at the time … Recover. Regroup. Finding the few that remained of his clan had been difficult – most had died off years ago and there were little to no leads to the living.
After six years of searching, he had felt the acidic twinge of acceptance, prepared to admit that there were none left in the world. Prepared to admit that he was the last … only to stand corrected when a pair of youngsters had happened upon his training grounds. It had been strange then, finding humans who carried that scent. Well, to be fair, it had only been one of them – a half-breed with some potential, while the other merely had strange knowledge of the clan and its history. Strange, but not useful.
He had battled against the older of the two – who had been no match for him, of course. His skills had been too tight; the redhead had not trusted his blade … not until his blood had awakened and the roar of the mythical beast could be heard in his veins. As strange as it was, it had renewed that spark within him … and so he had continued to search. He did not expect to find many others – the Highlanders were exceptionally elusive, and due to their decreasing ranks, it was truer than ever – but he still had the feeling that there were others. Somewhere.
As fate would have it, he was right. He had found them … though they were not the ones he remembered. He had been asleep for a long time. Those that he had found were not of his generation … They acted similarly, spoke similarly, but they were different nonetheless. Even so, he had made an effort to know them. To understand them and their new way of life. Their customs had not changed, but their survival methods had. They were often considered to be gypsies, although dabbling in nothing of the sort, and viewed as nomads.
He smirked wryly at the thought. The term 'nomads' implied that they travelled from place to place. That 'home' was wherever they happened to be on any given day. Utter nonsense, in his opinion. The entire Earth was their domain. Their battlefield. Their kingdom. Their home … everyone else just happened to be in it.
One of them had tried to convince him otherwise – a young doe-eyed little thing – claiming that the world was big enough for everyone to share. He had never been so furious in relation to the clan. To a clan member. Society had driven the Highlanders to the edge of the Earth – like every other human he had met, they constantly criticized what they did not understand and eradicated what they couldn't.
Despite his objection to her claims, she had merely brushed his concerns to the side; she said that it was in the past and that it was not right to seek retribution for crimes committed by those who had long since passed. That it was not right to seek vengeance against those who were of this generation – those who were far too young to have caused the problems which he took issue with.
He hated her.
He hated her for those careless words. Especially considering that those words had been directed at him. He hated her even more because she had been right. He hated her for keeping him company on those stormy, snow-ridden nights on the mountainside. He hated her for even talking to him, filling his head with little details of the world or the day as he travelled the foothills. He hated her for growing older and gaining the attention of the remaining males within the clan. He hated her for confessing that she did not care about them. He hated her for saying that she would be there if he ever wanted someone to speak to. He hated her for saying that if he wanted to take his anger out on anyone that it could be her. He hated her for being his first and last …
He hated her for that hesitant but needed kiss one cold night in November. He hated her for the searing memory of her lying beneath him on the cave floor, the small fire dancing only a few feet away from her head as her eyes had sparkled with love. He hated her for those gentle, expressive eyes which he had gazed into as he had consummated their strange relationship. He hated her for giving him something he thought he would never want. He hated her for being his family. He hated her for having the ability to create the unique child he now called his son – a tiny baby who had the perfect combination of her floral scent and his.
He hated her for heading down to that blasted village with their clanmates. He hated her for being cornered by those miserable wretches. He hated her for not being strong enough to protect herself from the villagers. Hated her for being found lifeless and bloody, her clothes ripped from her body as rain fell from sky like angelic tears trying to wash away the carnage. Hated her for leaving him to raise their child on his own. Hated her the most for every making him fall into an all-consuming love with a weak creature, such as herself. Hated her for leaving him …
He would never find another like her, and he prayed to God that he never would … Because if he did, he would kill it on sight … Just to save himself the muted agony of feeling his heart ripped from his chest.
With a low huff, watching as his breath turned white against the cold night air, he turned, prepared to enter the mouth of the cave. He still had some packing to do – extra clothes and supplies until he could find more. Once he was inside, he found an old, military-styled rucksack. It had a special compartment and was waterproof. That is what he would use to carry Addison. Trekking down a perilous mountainside was dangerous enough as it was – even for the most agile of people and the storm did not look like it would be calming down anytime soon. If he wanted to make it to the pass before the snowstorm sealed it, he would have to leave within the hour.
Once he had finished packing, he prodded at his fire, urging it to do its job faster. When he saw the small columns of steam arise from the liquid, he moved the pot to the cave floor, letting it cool until he could transfer it to a bottle. Once he did, he headed to the back of the cave where his son slept, content and warm in a bundle of blankets and ancient furs. As though the sounds of his footsteps had been enough, the tiny baby boy opened his eyes, revealing a pair of amber coloured orbs.
With a swoop of his arm he held the child close and took a seat near the fire. Offering the bottle to his son, he watched as Addison greedily gulped down its contents, pausing every few moments or so to cough before continuing. Truth be told, he did not expect the three month old to finish the entire thing, but he had a long walk ahead of him with no intention of stopping for a foreseen reason such as nourishment.
When the tiny baby could not eat anymore, he placed the bottle off to the side and watched as his son slept against his chest. Combing his fingers through the child's soft white hair, he casted a dark glance at the mouth of the cave before returning it to the fire. He had no intention of putting it out – the wind would kill it – and he did not plan to return to this place. Ever again. He was not sure where he would go, nor how he would get there apart from his own feet, but it had to be better than living out the rest of his days in the valley.
Deciding that it was time to leave, he gathered the rest of his belongings and made sure to dress Addison in accordance with the severity of the weather bearing down on them. Placing a tiny hood over the child's head, he secured him in the compartment of the rucksack, pulling the flap down so the wind would not nip at his face should it change its direction.
Shrugging into a long, heavy coat, securing the hood over his head, he tugged at a piece of cloth so that his only visible facial features were his eyes. Checking on Addison once more, he hoisted the rucksack onto his shoulders and slid a pair of lined leather gloves onto his hands.
It was time to find his Dragon.
Hello, everyone; I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I've decided to use this space to answer a few reviews.
Guest Review (Feb. 20th) - Chapter 7: Thanks for compliment; I appreciate it. I'm glad that you find the story to be interesting and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.
hi (Mar. 30th) - Chapter 8: I'm glad that you like the story, and even more so that you like the way I chose to depict Kyoya and Hikaru. (What I find is that a lot of people tend to create OCs - some of which are the children of canon characters - but they usually fail to establish how these characters were introduced/created in the canon setting. That's kind of why I created the periodic chapters - to provide additional insight and stuff that would be labelled as "off-screen" content.) Additionally, I chose to depict the aforementioned characters this way because I thought it would add to the complexity of their relationship. I didn't want to create a story where Kyoya and Hikaru magically fall in love and then Hikoya suddenly appears. I wanted to explore different aspects of their personalities and what they might experience together and apart from one another. (Ex. What does Hikaru really experience now that she no longer battles?)
That's all for now; don't be afraid to leave a comment/review, as I would like to know what my readers think about the chapters/content of "A Threat Close to Home."
P.S. - If you would like to know more about this story and its characters, please visit DeviantArt; at this website you can view drawings of the characters featured in this story (both original and canon), as well as some additional content such as journals, sketches and character bios.
- KYL-T7