Bond of the Soul by Child of the Faeries
Yamato's feet hit the floor with finality, ringing out through the silent walls of the Ashram. At his side Ken treaded silently, a ghostly shadow hiding his emotions. "Glad to be out of here?" Yamato asked, a ghastly smile upon his face. Ken's face remained irresolute, but Yamato could feel through the bond that his feelings were mixed.
Entering their tiny room, Ken proceeded to fold all of his clothing up and put them into a small bag very neatly. With each simple movement, his anger and dread grew in him. Why had they been sent away? What would this new Massah be like? Deep in his heart, he feared that this Massah would not favor him over Yamato, that in this new Massah's eyes they would be equals.
They were not equals. Ken had been born of the royal line in Tomichi, raised as nobility. Yamato was an orphan, abandoned and forlorn. His only family was this cruel Massah, who's eyes glinted with malicious thoughts and swirled with evil. They would never be equals in Ken's eyes.
Scorn filled his face and he turned sharply away from Yamato, hiding his shame. Yamato sat up and gazed at Ken's back mournfully for a moment.
"Do not hate me for my past," he murmured through the bond, his thoughts infiltrating Ken's mind. "Hate me for my superiority over you."
Ken's face blushed red and he pulled the strings on his bag tightly, causing one to snap. An angry look crossed his face. "Leave me alone."
"As you wish," the man whispered with quiet relish, and disappeared out the door.
Taking a deep breath, Yamato walked the halls he had known for so long. Hours passed in what seemed like seconds. He had thought this day would never come, that Massah would keep him tied in his iron chains until his hair was grey and he no longer could move. But suddenly, unexpectedly, Massah had cut the chains and given Yamato the one thing his soul truly desired- freedom.
Fading, flickering memories appeared out of the cold walls, wrapping Yamato in his cold past. Images sad and sweet pressed against his flesh, crying out to him, begging him to never forget.
A bittersweet smile crossed his face as he climbed the rickety staircase that lead to the bell tower. As a child, he had often crept up these very stairs, hoping just for a moment to view the beauty of the world, an assurance that humanity wasn't all bad.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped onto the bell tower, looking down to the town below. People scurried from the Ashram, ready to eat their dinners and talk quietly with the family members. Each one was wrapped in their own gloriously simple thoughts, so black and white against the canvas of life.
The dying sun lend it's glorious hues unto the land, casting everything in gold and rose-colored. Yamato drank it all in, letting the light shine it's holy purity on his cursed soul.
And for the first time in his life, he felt beautiful. He knew his reflection, his twisted face and scarred hands. But there was something about the light, it's gentle fire laying across his face in peace, that changed his weary soul. He was renewed, restored..... and filled with a divine power.
His laughter filled the air, and at first it startled him. He hadn't laughed in years. But the light danced in his eyes, and he could no longer hold it back. His laugher, pure and unadulterated, rang off the top of the Ashram of Mercy and down unto the people below.
So rare was a moment of joy in the Ashram of Mercy that it almost brought tears to his eyes.
And in his heart, he knew that nothing would be the same again.
Walking back down the stairs, he ran into Ken, who's face was filled with concern. "Where have you been?" he asked sternly, his eyes dark. "I have been looking everywhere for you."
Yamato gave him a patient smile. "I was attending to some business." He looked at Ken's hands, where his bag of belongings were held. "Are we to leave now?"
Ken nodded. "The sooner the better. The sun will be setting soon."
Yamato smiled, and brushed back his unruly hair. "Let's leave then."
"Don't you need your stuff?" Ken asked, confusion spelled across his face.
"What do you think I own? A bag of clothing, fine and fancy as yours? I'm just an orphaned, without love." His eyes stared in earnest at Ken for a moment, then looked away. "The sooner we get away from here, the better."
Ken turned brusquely, and headed to the front doors. Yamato lagged behind, sudden apprehension filled his soul. He had never been without a home before. Always in the past he could return to the Ashram of Mercy.
"Are you coming?" Ken asked softly, and Yamato found that he couldn't move. He tried, but so invisible threads held him back, their cruel claws ensnared in his flesh, unwilling to let their prey go.
"So afraid," he murmured wearily into Ken's mind, his knees giving away. His arms shuddered, and suddenly he felt inferior. The golden light that had entered his soul had left, leaving only an empty, fearful hole. He was a no one from no one. No one cared about him.
Ken moved to his side, silent. They looked at each other for a moment, Yamato's heart thumping wildly in his frame. He wanted desperately to be away from this place. He felt so cold and scared.
"The Massah no longer controls your fate," Ken said softly, sitting beside his friend. "Now it's time for you to spread your wings and fly."
Yamato blinked, feeling darkness swirling around him, trying to pull him back. "But...... the Massah is the only father I ever had," he muttered miserably under his breath. Ken caught his face roughly.
"What kind of father beats his child? Is that your idea of love and respect?" His eyes glittered with hidden knowledge. "You are more foolish than I though, Yamato. You are the prisoner who has been free but doesn't wish to leave his cell for the fear of what the world holds. I never know you would fear something so stupid."
He rose again, extending his hand. A strange, genuine form of kindness filled his eyes. "Let us leave this torment together." Yamato blinked, and raised weary eyes to the stained glass windows above. Finally he took Ken's hand and rose.
Together, they walked out of the Ashram of Mercy, and Yamato gritted his teeth, not glancing back. This was the part of his life that he wanted to forget.
A new life was starting.
His boots scraped along the rough road, his tongue lagging out of his mouth, testing the air. Overhead the blue moon shone through the clouds, feeding his hunger.
He looked at his majestic hands in wonderment. Reddish brown fur ran the entire length of his body, surrounding him in a gorgeous coat of magic. The moon wavering, and he grinned, licking his wolfish lips.
"Child of the Devil," he whispered, savoring the words as they rolled off
his tongue. He clenched his fist, feeling the muscles in his arm tighten. "I will show Massah that we children of the Devil can rival even his perfect soldiers." His jaw was taunt as he looked down at the animal he had just killed, it's blood staining his hands. He stared at the pitiful corpse without compassion, for it's death had been in his own hands. His magic had called him to it.
"Merciless Creator, turning me into this," he said venomously. "If anyone ever found out..... They would kill me. Without hesitation." He thought about the men and women back in the village, of his own sister and father. What would they do when they found out that he was a werewolf? He'd be even more of an outcast than he was now.
He raised his head in the wind, his mane of hair flowing in the slight breeze. The smell of magic met his nose, and his green eyes glowed with angry pleasure.
"The magic calls," he whispered softly, licking his lips in a dangerously calm way. "The hunt begins."
"We should set up camp soon," Ken muttered, glancing at the bright blue moon. "It doesn't feel safe out here in the open." His eyes swept over the grassy plains, searching for something. Yamato rolled his eyes.
"Magic's out tonight," he muttered to himself as he sat down on the grass. "A werewolf's moon shines in the sky." A smile crossed his face. "Don't worry, Ken-chan. I won't let anything hurt you. We would hate to have your pretty face scarred, now wouldn't we?"
Ken scowled, dark fire in his eyes. "I can protect myself, Yamato. "There had been such a transformation from the man Ken had seen sitting on the steps, unable to leave the prison that had held him so long. He was sick and tired of Yamato treating him like a child, foolish and unable to anything.
Yamato's smile never ceased as he stretched his large body out and gazed up at the stars. "I'll watch your back."
Ken turned, his eyes glowering, but deep inside of his heart, he was glad that Yamato was there. It would have been much more frightening to be in this grassy sea alone.
"Why do you not want to go this way?" Yamato asked from where he lay on the grass. Ken's eyes couldn't hide his surprise.
"What do you mean?"
"I can feel it here," he said simple, pointing to his chest. "You don't want to go to Aliadon. Why?"
"It must be the bond," Ken deduced calmly. "I'm sorry my thoughts are breaking through the veil between us. I'll try and keep them to myself."
Yamato sighed. "You didn't answer the question."
"There's no way of getting around you, is there?" Ken challenged with a sort of bitter half-laugh. "On the other side of Aliadon lies the city of Tomichi. It's where I grew up, and I have no desire to go anywhere near it ever again."
"Why not?" Yamato asked, sitting up. Ken gave him a dark look and turned away.
Magic swirled out of the dark plains, and his eyes gleamed jade green as he crept closer to the camp. There was two people there, he could tell. Two people with great magic.
His nostrils flared gracefully as his long body twisted through the grass. A smile played across his lips as he thought about attacking the two of them without a moment's notice. What chaos would ensue.
His stomach twisted sickeningly, and for a moment he paused, frozen. The reality of his situation hit him, pounding against his temples horrendously. "I truly am a child of the Devil," he whispered heart-wrenchingly to himself. "No child of the Creator could be so twisted and cruel." His fangs tore against the inside flesh of his mouth.
Dark magic fueled his soul, whispers urging him towards the camp where magic flowed like a river back and forth. He pulled off his boots, leaving them aside as he crouched on all fours, his eyes grim with resolution.
"It is my Fate, let every other creature under Heaven be warned," he mouthed, his words vanishing into the wind.
Yamato licked his lips. "Do you have a family?" he asked Ken slowly. Ken sat down and turned towards him.
"I don't know," he answered after a small pause. "I must have a mother and father somewhere, I'm sure, but they're of little use to me. I never knew them."
"I never knew my parents either. No one did." Yamato's blue eyes turned sober as he stared at the fire Ken had started.
"I had a brother, though. He took care of me. We were pretty close," Ken said, thinking through the years. "I lived in his house, in Tomichi. That's why I don't want to return there."
"Did you have a fight or something?" Yamato asked quickly.
"Or something," was Ken's only answer. Yamato could sense that there was something behind his response, but didn't want to push. If Ken truly trusted him, someday he would tell Yamato.
He wasn't so sure he trusted Ken yet. When he looked his companion in the eyes, he saw a dim hopelessness and an angry ocean of tears. Massah had always held Ken on a pedestal, his true chivalry shining through the dark, dismal halls of the Ashram of Mercy. Yet Yamato wasn't convinced that Ken was so brave, or strong, or noble. He seemed scared and confused.
His eyes fell on Ken, who sat several feet from him. His eyes were looking out into the plains, lost in the song the wind chanted as it danced past their ears.
"You okay?" Yamato asked softly, rubbing his long blond hair. Ken didn't move, but the magic within them stirred uneasily, like a pot about to boil over.
"I'm just thinking," he murmured. Yamato sat up.
"What about?"
Ken gave him a snort of disdain. "Even if I told you, you wouldn't care. You never had a family. You wouldn't understand."
White pain flashed in Yamato's eyes, but he tried to hide it. "Try me."
"I'd rather not," Ken said evenly, and Yamato could swear angry red sparks exploded in Ken's eyes. The air tightened around them as they tested each other, seeing which one would snap first. Eyes glowering, they looked into each other's eyes, seeing the very depths of their angry souls.
"Life's not fair," Yamato said softly, falling back down to the ground. Ken took a deep breath, and the words caught in his throat.
The fire danced, reflecting in his eyes. They were having a fight, he could tell from where he was crouched in the grass. The magic they contained flared up, his hunger nearly overtaking him.
"Wait for the right moment," the wind whispered in his ear, tickling him delightfully. A smile crept unto his face.
He gritted his teeth, sharp fangs grinding together in a glorious symphony of gore. His eyes, bloodshot and shining, watched the blond and the blue-haired boy converse with anticipation. He could hardly wait any longer.
"I'm going to take a walk," the blue-haired one said, rising gently to his feet. "I can't sleep. The wind's bothering me."
The blond nodded, and rolled over. His friend stared at him for a moment, and the werewolf noted a sense of sadness in his remorseful stare.
"Now," the wind whispered in his ear, and he crouched low, his lips curled with pleasure. The blue-haired boy stood at the edge of camp, wistful, and started into the grass.
"Ken!" the blond called out quickly, and the werewolf's head rose in surprise. Fury pounded in his head as the thrill of the hunt ran through his veins.
"What, Yamato?" the blue-haired boy asked, turning around. The blond rose, a piercing look drifting over the grass and finally resting on the werewolf's wild eyes.
"Come here," he whispered, and Ken returned to his side. Yamato looked the werewolf in the eyes. "Don't hurt him. It's me you want."
The werewolf's eyes never ceased to glimmer in the darkness. He lashed his tail angrily, the grass swishing behind him.
"I told you to let him go," the blond demanded roughly, pushing his friend aside and stepping towards the werewolf. "Don't test me." His eyes were dark with rage, and the werewolf took a deep breath.
"Very well," he whispered regally, sitting up. His hands found the golden pendant that hung from his neck, and he murmured a few words of ancient magic. The blue-haired boy blinked wearily for a few seconds before tumbling head first into the ground.
"Why are you here?" Yamato demanded, his hands clenched into fists. The werewolf sat back on it's hind legs and smiled.
"Magic is outlawed in Aliadon," the werewolf said in a raspy voice.
"How do you know where we are going?" Yamato asked unkindly. The werewolf smiled again.
"The wind whispers to me." He growled, emitting a chilling howl to the blue moon overhead. "I am sorry that I have to do this, Yamato. But my master orders it. The wind guided me to you."
Yamato's blue eyes were dilated, his mind elsewhere. "Do not hurt my companion, Ken. Your master wishes you only to destroy the magic. He has no magic."
"I cannot promise that," the werewolf said with a sly smile. Yamato stepped forward.
"Are you threatening him? If you hurt my friend, I will hunt you down and kill you, hanging your remains in the middle of your hometown."
"Not if you're dead," the werewolf hissed, baring his teeth viciously. Yamato laughed, and the werewolf lunged, caught in the magic of the moon.
He looked down at his bloody hands in dismay. How many times had he killed for the sake of his master? He had already lost count.
Gazing down at the bloody remains of Yamato, his heart stirred, and fear filled his heart. "You're in trouble," the wind whispered maliciously in his ear, taunting him. "He will kill you someday."
Rising to his feet, Daisuke's heart felt heavy. He had liked Yamato, especially after the tongue-lashing Yamato had given his sister. It had felt good to have someone stand up for you. "I will not harm your friend," he whispered, his mouth filled with the unsavory taste of bile and blood. Already the blue moon, with it's mysteriously hypnotic powers over him, had faded into the abyss of night. Only the stars shined, their beautiful light harsh against his tainted soul.
"Someday, I will fight for what is right, alongside your friend," Daisuke promised Yamato solemnly. "But I'm not strong enough right now."
Turning on his heel, he fled from the blood, heading back to town. It would take him a couple of hours running on top speed, but the night was young and fresh blood pounded through his body.
Glancing backwards, he caught sight of the blue-haired boy, and felt a slight twinge of regret. Then he bound off into the night, the wind hurling insults in his ears as the stars looked down in anger.
Ken's eyes fluttered open, and he rubbed his head. Already it was near midday, for the sun was overhead. "Wh--what happened?" he muttered, sitting up. All of last night seemed like a dream. He had been angry at Yamato, and then that thing showed up...
"Yamato?" Ken called, rising to his feet. His clean clothing had grass-stains and dirt on them. "Yamato, this isn't funny," he yelled again, his voice stern.
A bird called across the plain, and then silence ensued. Ken's heart beat faster as he stared wide-eyed around him, seeing no sign of anyone.
"He'll be back," Ken promised himself, closing his eyes. "He wouldn't just leave me." Yet in his heart, there was a strange feeling of dread. Where Yamato's strong personality and sharp emotions had once filled him, now there was only slack. Devoid of anything.
Ken huddled down on his knees, muttering something in his native tongue. A raven glided in the sky, landing in front of him. Opening his eyes, he glared at the ebony crow. The bird squawked at him angrily, and Ken rose, his foot connecting with the bird. It gave him a cold glare and settled on the ground a few feet away from Ken, never moving it's eyes from his face.
"Go away," Ken said darkly. Any minute now Yamato would return, and they could resume their journey. He would be back soon.
The raven seemed to grin at him, like he knew something that Ken didn't. His body shook as he remembered the old folk tales of his homeland, about the raven being an embodiment of evil and often it visited the dead. But Osamu had kept a raven as a pet.
Ken rose to his feet, and the raven hopped through the grass. After a moment's hesitation, Ken followed.
The grass opened up to a spot where the grass was crushed and covered in a film of water. Brushing by a few blade of grass, he was dismayed to find that it wasn't water on the grass, but blood.
Stumbling into the clearing, he froze, his heart jumping into his throat. He tried to move, to run away, but his muscles couldn't. His eyes stared at Yamato in horror.
"No......" he whispered, his knees failing him. He fell to the ground, burying his face into the grass. "Not again......not again...."
Images filled his mind, ransoming his coherent thoughts.
He stuck his identification card into the slot, whistling a merry tune as the gate swung open, allowing him into his house.
Osamu didn't open the door, and he had to enter the house through an open window near the back. Slipping into the dining room, he accidentally knocked over a priceless crystal vase. "Osamu will have my head," he muttered, looking at the shards of crystal carefully. Bending down, he picked a piece up and accidentally cut himself. "Ouch."
A crimson teardrop appeared on his finger, and he cursed lightly. "Osamu, I need a bandage!" he called through the regal house. "Hurry, before I bleed onto your precious carpet!"
Osamu didn't come, and another drop of blood fell from his finger. "Osamu, where are you?" he demanded, striding into his brother's study. "I called and-"
The distinct pungency of blood met his nose, and his throat constricted. Never before had he seen such an execution. Blood covered the room in a crimson wave. His brother's raven cried pitifully in the corner.
"Osamu!" Ken cried, running to his brother's side. "Osamu, Osamu." He couldn't breath.
The blood from Osamu didn't even show on Ken's red clothing. He grabbed hold of Osamu's wrist, trying to wake him.
"Osamu!" he yelled, horror rising in his body. "You can't leave me! You can't!"
For a brief moment, Osamu's eyes flickered open. Ken dug his fingernails into Osamu's skin. "Osamu!"
His brother fought for consciousness. "Mi culpa," he whispered wearily. My sin.
Osamu's face blurred, and instead Ken could see Yamato's scarred and tortured face. Osamu. Yamato. Osamu. Yamato.
"Don't leave me!" Ken cried bitterly, raising his head from the grass. "I've already lost my brother, I couldn't live if I lost my best friend."
Yamato's body didn't move. "You have to live," Ken cried out bitterly, his hands clenched into fists. "You promised to watch my back," he whispered in anguish. "I should have been watching yours."
Yamato's feet hit the floor with finality, ringing out through the silent walls of the Ashram. At his side Ken treaded silently, a ghostly shadow hiding his emotions. "Glad to be out of here?" Yamato asked, a ghastly smile upon his face. Ken's face remained irresolute, but Yamato could feel through the bond that his feelings were mixed.
Entering their tiny room, Ken proceeded to fold all of his clothing up and put them into a small bag very neatly. With each simple movement, his anger and dread grew in him. Why had they been sent away? What would this new Massah be like? Deep in his heart, he feared that this Massah would not favor him over Yamato, that in this new Massah's eyes they would be equals.
They were not equals. Ken had been born of the royal line in Tomichi, raised as nobility. Yamato was an orphan, abandoned and forlorn. His only family was this cruel Massah, who's eyes glinted with malicious thoughts and swirled with evil. They would never be equals in Ken's eyes.
Scorn filled his face and he turned sharply away from Yamato, hiding his shame. Yamato sat up and gazed at Ken's back mournfully for a moment.
"Do not hate me for my past," he murmured through the bond, his thoughts infiltrating Ken's mind. "Hate me for my superiority over you."
Ken's face blushed red and he pulled the strings on his bag tightly, causing one to snap. An angry look crossed his face. "Leave me alone."
"As you wish," the man whispered with quiet relish, and disappeared out the door.
Taking a deep breath, Yamato walked the halls he had known for so long. Hours passed in what seemed like seconds. He had thought this day would never come, that Massah would keep him tied in his iron chains until his hair was grey and he no longer could move. But suddenly, unexpectedly, Massah had cut the chains and given Yamato the one thing his soul truly desired- freedom.
Fading, flickering memories appeared out of the cold walls, wrapping Yamato in his cold past. Images sad and sweet pressed against his flesh, crying out to him, begging him to never forget.
A bittersweet smile crossed his face as he climbed the rickety staircase that lead to the bell tower. As a child, he had often crept up these very stairs, hoping just for a moment to view the beauty of the world, an assurance that humanity wasn't all bad.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped onto the bell tower, looking down to the town below. People scurried from the Ashram, ready to eat their dinners and talk quietly with the family members. Each one was wrapped in their own gloriously simple thoughts, so black and white against the canvas of life.
The dying sun lend it's glorious hues unto the land, casting everything in gold and rose-colored. Yamato drank it all in, letting the light shine it's holy purity on his cursed soul.
And for the first time in his life, he felt beautiful. He knew his reflection, his twisted face and scarred hands. But there was something about the light, it's gentle fire laying across his face in peace, that changed his weary soul. He was renewed, restored..... and filled with a divine power.
His laughter filled the air, and at first it startled him. He hadn't laughed in years. But the light danced in his eyes, and he could no longer hold it back. His laugher, pure and unadulterated, rang off the top of the Ashram of Mercy and down unto the people below.
So rare was a moment of joy in the Ashram of Mercy that it almost brought tears to his eyes.
And in his heart, he knew that nothing would be the same again.
Walking back down the stairs, he ran into Ken, who's face was filled with concern. "Where have you been?" he asked sternly, his eyes dark. "I have been looking everywhere for you."
Yamato gave him a patient smile. "I was attending to some business." He looked at Ken's hands, where his bag of belongings were held. "Are we to leave now?"
Ken nodded. "The sooner the better. The sun will be setting soon."
Yamato smiled, and brushed back his unruly hair. "Let's leave then."
"Don't you need your stuff?" Ken asked, confusion spelled across his face.
"What do you think I own? A bag of clothing, fine and fancy as yours? I'm just an orphaned, without love." His eyes stared in earnest at Ken for a moment, then looked away. "The sooner we get away from here, the better."
Ken turned brusquely, and headed to the front doors. Yamato lagged behind, sudden apprehension filled his soul. He had never been without a home before. Always in the past he could return to the Ashram of Mercy.
"Are you coming?" Ken asked softly, and Yamato found that he couldn't move. He tried, but so invisible threads held him back, their cruel claws ensnared in his flesh, unwilling to let their prey go.
"So afraid," he murmured wearily into Ken's mind, his knees giving away. His arms shuddered, and suddenly he felt inferior. The golden light that had entered his soul had left, leaving only an empty, fearful hole. He was a no one from no one. No one cared about him.
Ken moved to his side, silent. They looked at each other for a moment, Yamato's heart thumping wildly in his frame. He wanted desperately to be away from this place. He felt so cold and scared.
"The Massah no longer controls your fate," Ken said softly, sitting beside his friend. "Now it's time for you to spread your wings and fly."
Yamato blinked, feeling darkness swirling around him, trying to pull him back. "But...... the Massah is the only father I ever had," he muttered miserably under his breath. Ken caught his face roughly.
"What kind of father beats his child? Is that your idea of love and respect?" His eyes glittered with hidden knowledge. "You are more foolish than I though, Yamato. You are the prisoner who has been free but doesn't wish to leave his cell for the fear of what the world holds. I never know you would fear something so stupid."
He rose again, extending his hand. A strange, genuine form of kindness filled his eyes. "Let us leave this torment together." Yamato blinked, and raised weary eyes to the stained glass windows above. Finally he took Ken's hand and rose.
Together, they walked out of the Ashram of Mercy, and Yamato gritted his teeth, not glancing back. This was the part of his life that he wanted to forget.
A new life was starting.
His boots scraped along the rough road, his tongue lagging out of his mouth, testing the air. Overhead the blue moon shone through the clouds, feeding his hunger.
He looked at his majestic hands in wonderment. Reddish brown fur ran the entire length of his body, surrounding him in a gorgeous coat of magic. The moon wavering, and he grinned, licking his wolfish lips.
"Child of the Devil," he whispered, savoring the words as they rolled off
his tongue. He clenched his fist, feeling the muscles in his arm tighten. "I will show Massah that we children of the Devil can rival even his perfect soldiers." His jaw was taunt as he looked down at the animal he had just killed, it's blood staining his hands. He stared at the pitiful corpse without compassion, for it's death had been in his own hands. His magic had called him to it.
"Merciless Creator, turning me into this," he said venomously. "If anyone ever found out..... They would kill me. Without hesitation." He thought about the men and women back in the village, of his own sister and father. What would they do when they found out that he was a werewolf? He'd be even more of an outcast than he was now.
He raised his head in the wind, his mane of hair flowing in the slight breeze. The smell of magic met his nose, and his green eyes glowed with angry pleasure.
"The magic calls," he whispered softly, licking his lips in a dangerously calm way. "The hunt begins."
"We should set up camp soon," Ken muttered, glancing at the bright blue moon. "It doesn't feel safe out here in the open." His eyes swept over the grassy plains, searching for something. Yamato rolled his eyes.
"Magic's out tonight," he muttered to himself as he sat down on the grass. "A werewolf's moon shines in the sky." A smile crossed his face. "Don't worry, Ken-chan. I won't let anything hurt you. We would hate to have your pretty face scarred, now wouldn't we?"
Ken scowled, dark fire in his eyes. "I can protect myself, Yamato. "There had been such a transformation from the man Ken had seen sitting on the steps, unable to leave the prison that had held him so long. He was sick and tired of Yamato treating him like a child, foolish and unable to anything.
Yamato's smile never ceased as he stretched his large body out and gazed up at the stars. "I'll watch your back."
Ken turned, his eyes glowering, but deep inside of his heart, he was glad that Yamato was there. It would have been much more frightening to be in this grassy sea alone.
"Why do you not want to go this way?" Yamato asked from where he lay on the grass. Ken's eyes couldn't hide his surprise.
"What do you mean?"
"I can feel it here," he said simple, pointing to his chest. "You don't want to go to Aliadon. Why?"
"It must be the bond," Ken deduced calmly. "I'm sorry my thoughts are breaking through the veil between us. I'll try and keep them to myself."
Yamato sighed. "You didn't answer the question."
"There's no way of getting around you, is there?" Ken challenged with a sort of bitter half-laugh. "On the other side of Aliadon lies the city of Tomichi. It's where I grew up, and I have no desire to go anywhere near it ever again."
"Why not?" Yamato asked, sitting up. Ken gave him a dark look and turned away.
Magic swirled out of the dark plains, and his eyes gleamed jade green as he crept closer to the camp. There was two people there, he could tell. Two people with great magic.
His nostrils flared gracefully as his long body twisted through the grass. A smile played across his lips as he thought about attacking the two of them without a moment's notice. What chaos would ensue.
His stomach twisted sickeningly, and for a moment he paused, frozen. The reality of his situation hit him, pounding against his temples horrendously. "I truly am a child of the Devil," he whispered heart-wrenchingly to himself. "No child of the Creator could be so twisted and cruel." His fangs tore against the inside flesh of his mouth.
Dark magic fueled his soul, whispers urging him towards the camp where magic flowed like a river back and forth. He pulled off his boots, leaving them aside as he crouched on all fours, his eyes grim with resolution.
"It is my Fate, let every other creature under Heaven be warned," he mouthed, his words vanishing into the wind.
Yamato licked his lips. "Do you have a family?" he asked Ken slowly. Ken sat down and turned towards him.
"I don't know," he answered after a small pause. "I must have a mother and father somewhere, I'm sure, but they're of little use to me. I never knew them."
"I never knew my parents either. No one did." Yamato's blue eyes turned sober as he stared at the fire Ken had started.
"I had a brother, though. He took care of me. We were pretty close," Ken said, thinking through the years. "I lived in his house, in Tomichi. That's why I don't want to return there."
"Did you have a fight or something?" Yamato asked quickly.
"Or something," was Ken's only answer. Yamato could sense that there was something behind his response, but didn't want to push. If Ken truly trusted him, someday he would tell Yamato.
He wasn't so sure he trusted Ken yet. When he looked his companion in the eyes, he saw a dim hopelessness and an angry ocean of tears. Massah had always held Ken on a pedestal, his true chivalry shining through the dark, dismal halls of the Ashram of Mercy. Yet Yamato wasn't convinced that Ken was so brave, or strong, or noble. He seemed scared and confused.
His eyes fell on Ken, who sat several feet from him. His eyes were looking out into the plains, lost in the song the wind chanted as it danced past their ears.
"You okay?" Yamato asked softly, rubbing his long blond hair. Ken didn't move, but the magic within them stirred uneasily, like a pot about to boil over.
"I'm just thinking," he murmured. Yamato sat up.
"What about?"
Ken gave him a snort of disdain. "Even if I told you, you wouldn't care. You never had a family. You wouldn't understand."
White pain flashed in Yamato's eyes, but he tried to hide it. "Try me."
"I'd rather not," Ken said evenly, and Yamato could swear angry red sparks exploded in Ken's eyes. The air tightened around them as they tested each other, seeing which one would snap first. Eyes glowering, they looked into each other's eyes, seeing the very depths of their angry souls.
"Life's not fair," Yamato said softly, falling back down to the ground. Ken took a deep breath, and the words caught in his throat.
The fire danced, reflecting in his eyes. They were having a fight, he could tell from where he was crouched in the grass. The magic they contained flared up, his hunger nearly overtaking him.
"Wait for the right moment," the wind whispered in his ear, tickling him delightfully. A smile crept unto his face.
He gritted his teeth, sharp fangs grinding together in a glorious symphony of gore. His eyes, bloodshot and shining, watched the blond and the blue-haired boy converse with anticipation. He could hardly wait any longer.
"I'm going to take a walk," the blue-haired one said, rising gently to his feet. "I can't sleep. The wind's bothering me."
The blond nodded, and rolled over. His friend stared at him for a moment, and the werewolf noted a sense of sadness in his remorseful stare.
"Now," the wind whispered in his ear, and he crouched low, his lips curled with pleasure. The blue-haired boy stood at the edge of camp, wistful, and started into the grass.
"Ken!" the blond called out quickly, and the werewolf's head rose in surprise. Fury pounded in his head as the thrill of the hunt ran through his veins.
"What, Yamato?" the blue-haired boy asked, turning around. The blond rose, a piercing look drifting over the grass and finally resting on the werewolf's wild eyes.
"Come here," he whispered, and Ken returned to his side. Yamato looked the werewolf in the eyes. "Don't hurt him. It's me you want."
The werewolf's eyes never ceased to glimmer in the darkness. He lashed his tail angrily, the grass swishing behind him.
"I told you to let him go," the blond demanded roughly, pushing his friend aside and stepping towards the werewolf. "Don't test me." His eyes were dark with rage, and the werewolf took a deep breath.
"Very well," he whispered regally, sitting up. His hands found the golden pendant that hung from his neck, and he murmured a few words of ancient magic. The blue-haired boy blinked wearily for a few seconds before tumbling head first into the ground.
"Why are you here?" Yamato demanded, his hands clenched into fists. The werewolf sat back on it's hind legs and smiled.
"Magic is outlawed in Aliadon," the werewolf said in a raspy voice.
"How do you know where we are going?" Yamato asked unkindly. The werewolf smiled again.
"The wind whispers to me." He growled, emitting a chilling howl to the blue moon overhead. "I am sorry that I have to do this, Yamato. But my master orders it. The wind guided me to you."
Yamato's blue eyes were dilated, his mind elsewhere. "Do not hurt my companion, Ken. Your master wishes you only to destroy the magic. He has no magic."
"I cannot promise that," the werewolf said with a sly smile. Yamato stepped forward.
"Are you threatening him? If you hurt my friend, I will hunt you down and kill you, hanging your remains in the middle of your hometown."
"Not if you're dead," the werewolf hissed, baring his teeth viciously. Yamato laughed, and the werewolf lunged, caught in the magic of the moon.
He looked down at his bloody hands in dismay. How many times had he killed for the sake of his master? He had already lost count.
Gazing down at the bloody remains of Yamato, his heart stirred, and fear filled his heart. "You're in trouble," the wind whispered maliciously in his ear, taunting him. "He will kill you someday."
Rising to his feet, Daisuke's heart felt heavy. He had liked Yamato, especially after the tongue-lashing Yamato had given his sister. It had felt good to have someone stand up for you. "I will not harm your friend," he whispered, his mouth filled with the unsavory taste of bile and blood. Already the blue moon, with it's mysteriously hypnotic powers over him, had faded into the abyss of night. Only the stars shined, their beautiful light harsh against his tainted soul.
"Someday, I will fight for what is right, alongside your friend," Daisuke promised Yamato solemnly. "But I'm not strong enough right now."
Turning on his heel, he fled from the blood, heading back to town. It would take him a couple of hours running on top speed, but the night was young and fresh blood pounded through his body.
Glancing backwards, he caught sight of the blue-haired boy, and felt a slight twinge of regret. Then he bound off into the night, the wind hurling insults in his ears as the stars looked down in anger.
Ken's eyes fluttered open, and he rubbed his head. Already it was near midday, for the sun was overhead. "Wh--what happened?" he muttered, sitting up. All of last night seemed like a dream. He had been angry at Yamato, and then that thing showed up...
"Yamato?" Ken called, rising to his feet. His clean clothing had grass-stains and dirt on them. "Yamato, this isn't funny," he yelled again, his voice stern.
A bird called across the plain, and then silence ensued. Ken's heart beat faster as he stared wide-eyed around him, seeing no sign of anyone.
"He'll be back," Ken promised himself, closing his eyes. "He wouldn't just leave me." Yet in his heart, there was a strange feeling of dread. Where Yamato's strong personality and sharp emotions had once filled him, now there was only slack. Devoid of anything.
Ken huddled down on his knees, muttering something in his native tongue. A raven glided in the sky, landing in front of him. Opening his eyes, he glared at the ebony crow. The bird squawked at him angrily, and Ken rose, his foot connecting with the bird. It gave him a cold glare and settled on the ground a few feet away from Ken, never moving it's eyes from his face.
"Go away," Ken said darkly. Any minute now Yamato would return, and they could resume their journey. He would be back soon.
The raven seemed to grin at him, like he knew something that Ken didn't. His body shook as he remembered the old folk tales of his homeland, about the raven being an embodiment of evil and often it visited the dead. But Osamu had kept a raven as a pet.
Ken rose to his feet, and the raven hopped through the grass. After a moment's hesitation, Ken followed.
The grass opened up to a spot where the grass was crushed and covered in a film of water. Brushing by a few blade of grass, he was dismayed to find that it wasn't water on the grass, but blood.
Stumbling into the clearing, he froze, his heart jumping into his throat. He tried to move, to run away, but his muscles couldn't. His eyes stared at Yamato in horror.
"No......" he whispered, his knees failing him. He fell to the ground, burying his face into the grass. "Not again......not again...."
Images filled his mind, ransoming his coherent thoughts.
He stuck his identification card into the slot, whistling a merry tune as the gate swung open, allowing him into his house.
Osamu didn't open the door, and he had to enter the house through an open window near the back. Slipping into the dining room, he accidentally knocked over a priceless crystal vase. "Osamu will have my head," he muttered, looking at the shards of crystal carefully. Bending down, he picked a piece up and accidentally cut himself. "Ouch."
A crimson teardrop appeared on his finger, and he cursed lightly. "Osamu, I need a bandage!" he called through the regal house. "Hurry, before I bleed onto your precious carpet!"
Osamu didn't come, and another drop of blood fell from his finger. "Osamu, where are you?" he demanded, striding into his brother's study. "I called and-"
The distinct pungency of blood met his nose, and his throat constricted. Never before had he seen such an execution. Blood covered the room in a crimson wave. His brother's raven cried pitifully in the corner.
"Osamu!" Ken cried, running to his brother's side. "Osamu, Osamu." He couldn't breath.
The blood from Osamu didn't even show on Ken's red clothing. He grabbed hold of Osamu's wrist, trying to wake him.
"Osamu!" he yelled, horror rising in his body. "You can't leave me! You can't!"
For a brief moment, Osamu's eyes flickered open. Ken dug his fingernails into Osamu's skin. "Osamu!"
His brother fought for consciousness. "Mi culpa," he whispered wearily. My sin.
Osamu's face blurred, and instead Ken could see Yamato's scarred and tortured face. Osamu. Yamato. Osamu. Yamato.
"Don't leave me!" Ken cried bitterly, raising his head from the grass. "I've already lost my brother, I couldn't live if I lost my best friend."
Yamato's body didn't move. "You have to live," Ken cried out bitterly, his hands clenched into fists. "You promised to watch my back," he whispered in anguish. "I should have been watching yours."