** disclaimer: Digimon does not belong to me. Takeru and Hikari doesn't belong to me. If they did, I'd be rich. So leave me alone you vultures!
** Author's notes: Something I forgot to say last time. Ghost in the Machine was right when he said this was really more of an original fic than a digimon fic. Well, feel free to treat it that way if you want. Who knows? Maybe when I'm finished this, and if it's good enough, I'll change the names, send it to a publisher, and hope they'll accept it. Imagine that! Getting published at sixteen! ^_^
Takeru and Kari will remain the only two digimon characters in this saga. There will be more of the cast coming in in the second saga. (And yes, I've actually started writing that already). And will digimon be included? Well…sort of, and sort of not. Once you read this chapter, I think you'll be able to hazard a guess as to how I'm going to be bringing them in. Where "Ashes" focused on the 01 cast, this one'll focus on the 02 cast. Expect to see Davis, Cody, Yolei, and Ken. What'll be their fantasy reincarnations? Not telling. Heehee…
CONTEST DETAILS AT THE END OF THIS CHAPTER!! SPREAD THE WORD!!
The Age of Gods: Chapter Two
By: TK Takaishi
Not more than three hours ago, the valley of Kurtal had been a literal living hell, as screams of the dying, and the cries of conquerors alike had echoed through the mountains. Now, as the sun sank slowly into the west peaks, they were shrouded in a deceptively calm silence. Darkness cloaked the land like a veil, broken only by the flickering fires that were still burning among the ruins.
A small group of ten figures, spread out into a line, made their way along the streets. Their black body armour, emblazoned with a hissing golden serpent, gleamed in the dull light. Around their armoured shoulders, dark gray cloaks shrouded their bodies, seeming to ripple about them like a curtain of icy water as they moved. Wielding an array of wickedly curved scimitars, several of the blades were stained a deep crimson from their victim's blood.
But the most menacing thing about them was their faces. A full facemask covered each of their visages, leaving small slits for the eyes. And even those were covered with tinted glass. There was no way of telling one soldier apart from another, as their features were indistinguishable behind those masks.
Indeed, one couldn't even tell if they had human features. To the enemy, they were inhuman, emotionless and fearless. The mask itself was a weapon of sorts.
The lead soldier's helmet, the Centurion, bore a golden plume denoting his rank. Behind his mask, his eyes scanned the streets left and right as he prowled brazenly down the street. Cold. Controlled. He knew his mission. The main body of the army had left hours ago, but he and his group of soldiers were responsible for "cleaning up". The commander knew why.
There must be no trace that agents of Khaydarin had destroyed Kurtal. No survivors, no clues, nothing. All telltale traces of weapon marks, perhaps of a dead soldier here and there, must be disposed of before anyone found out about the village's destruction. In other parts of the valley, similar task forces were combing the countryside, the remains of Kurtal, and would leave in another hour or so.
By the time morning light illuminated this valley again, there would only be a burned out husk.
It was a matter of diplomacy. If the kingdoms ever discovered of this, ever got solid proof that Khaydarin was responsible for inciting war, their careful plans for conquest of Gaea would be crushed.
The Centurion shrugged indifferently. He was a mere soldier, and a soldier does not concern himself with politics. As he turned back to the task at hand though, he couldn't help but snort with contempt. This little backwater village was hardly worth the bother of an entire division of Khaydarin's mighty army. A mere two-squadron task force would have been enough. Why his superiors had been so hell-bent on its destruction, he would never know.
All he knew were his orders. There were to be no survivors, and no prisoners. Praetor Caylor had been surprisingly adamant about that, almost as if something, or someone, in this village, was of significance…
Suddenly, something flickered in the stillness. The Centurion froze.
What was that?
Straining his eyes to the utmost, the Khaydarin soldier could barely see two moving dots far away, at least a mile. Taking out a mini handheld telescope, he placed it against his eye, and scanned the area again.
There. Two children. A boy and a girl, no more than fourteen, running along the streets. Both of them were dressed in the garb of farm-children.
The Centurion grinned. Grating out a guttural grunt to his soldiers, he settled into a run. With animal-like grace, the rest of his platoon spread out on the field, bloodhounds on a scent. Unsheathing his scimitar, the Centurion held it close to his side, the gleaming steel blade flashing in the moonlight.
His cloak swirled.
Explaining what happened next would be like trying to describe the concept of sight to a man that had been born blind.
The group's outline blurred and rippled. Their forms and shapes seemed to dim into nothingness as they ran across the ruined fields. Even when the first, silvery light of the stars shone upon the earth, they did not gleam upon the Khaydarin soldiers. They cast no shadow upon the cold earth. It was as if they had absorbed every last vestige of visible radiation into themselves, becoming nothing more than wraiths of shadows, a void of utter darkness. Impossible to pick out against the black background.
And thus, they silently descended upon the lone farmhouse on the hill…
There were to be no survivors.
**********
"Mother?! Mother?!" Kari called as she ran up the path to her home. "Where are you?!"
Beside her, Takeru kept pace with the girl as she approached her home, sprinting lightly. His eyes were grim as he scanned the smashed remnants of the burning farmhouse. Reason dictated that since no one from town had survived, it was a likely bet that Mrs. Kamiya was dead too. But he kept that piece of logic to himself, unwilling to crush his friend.
The normally cheerful and tidy house looked deserted. From the outside, it appeared to be untouched. The door was open and unlocked, creaking as it swayed to and fro in the evening wind. That in itself was cause for worry. Kari ran up the porch steps, and skidded to a halt in the doorway.
"Mother?!" she called again in mindless desperation. Her crimson eyes widened at the destruction within her home. Takeru sucked in a breath as he stopped next to her, and peered in over her shoulder.
The normally cheerful living room was a wreck. Furniture had been overturned and smashed, sheets ripped and shredded, and wreckage of silverware was piled on the floor in shattered slivers. It was almost as if the people who had invaded had been looking for something, or someone. Nothing was left untouched.
"Kari…" Takeru started gently.
The girl pretended she didn't hear. Racing upstairs, she scanned the upper floors, while Takeru, shaking his head at the futile gesture, combed the lower ones.
But he found nothing. Half of the kitchen had been razed, and the living room had been totally wrecked.
The two searched everywhere. In the rapidly fading light, they searched the grounds, the fields, and the attic. Takeru looked in the cellar as Kari went to the barn. He found smashed furniture, mindless destruction, but he didn't find a trace of Mrs. Kamiya. No clues even, to whether she was alive or not. No telltale traces of blood, no torn clothing.
He felt sick. Sick to the pit of his stomach with disgust and hatred. It was a new feeling to the normally gentle boy, this all-consuming, unfocused rage, and already, Takeru hated it. It was hot rage, and he couldn't use it. Instead, hot rage used him.
He stopped, and took a couple quick breaths until the red haze beginning to cloud his vision cleared. Now was not the time to get mad. In defeat, he made his way to the barn to meet up with Kari.
He found the girl sitting numbly on the floor, heedless of the straw strands that littered it. In her hand, she clutched a golden pendant, its chain snapped cleanly in half, as if it had been yanked off its owner. As she heard his footsteps, she turned frightened crimson eyes up to meet his.
"TK…" In her distress, Kari slipped back into Takeru's childhood nickname. "Did you find her? Did you find anything?"
Takeru shook his head slowly. "Nothing." The word hung heavily in the air.
Kari took a deep breath. "Maybe she's on the grounds somewhere. Or in the cellar…"
"I just checked the cellar. And the attic. I didn't find anything except a big mess."
"The fields?"
"Same thing. They burned your crops as well, the bastards. In fact, near as I can tell, they burned the entire village's harvest."
It was obvious that Kari was struggling to keep her composure. "But why?"
The boy sighed as he hazarded a guess. "Whoever they were, they were looking for something. I can't tell whether they found it or not. And frankly, whatever it is, they can have it. Nothing could be worth this…"
The girl's shoulders slumped with disappointment. Bowing her head, she began trembling. "Where is she…? Takeru, where is my mother…"
"I…" Takeru hated himself. He had no answer. "I don't know…"
The boy could see that the girl was crying. Weeping bitterly. He couldn't see her eyes, as her head was bowed, and her bangs obscured them. Bu he could see the trails of the glistening tears as they coursed down her cheeks. Hugging herself, she began to shiver violently, as if she was cold.
"I'm scared Takeru…" she whispered softly.
Hesitantly, the boy padded over. Kneeling down, he held the crying girl gently, yet securely. The gesture felt awkward, but somehow, it felt like…like the right thing to do. He didn't say a word, but just allowed her to cry into his chest, as he gently rubbed her back.
A sanctuary against the madness, a rock to hold onto in the storm.
They stayed like that for a long time. Exactly how long, Takeru couldn't be sure. The two children sat silently in the dark farmhouse, lost in the ruined shell of their past lives, as one tried valiantly to comfort the other. Then, slowly, Kari's sniffles subsided. Her trembling stopped.
Pulling away from the boy, she offered him a weak smile. "Thanks TK," she whispered. It was a small smile, stained with tears, but the boy realized that, in her broken state, it was all she could afford to give.
Takeru smiled lightly in reassurance. "Maybe your mother escaped?" he suggested hopefully. "Maybe she managed to get away before whoever it was attacked?"
Kari shook her head slowly. "She wouldn't have left this." The girl held up the golden locket she had found on the ground. "She wears it all the time. Even if she'd been totally surprised, this would still have been around her neck."
"Maybe she- "
"Takeru, you don't understand." Kari glanced at the locket. "This was the last thing that father gave mother before he died. She would never leave it behind, nor forget it.
"Besides me, it was all she had left." For a moment, silence reigned in the barn as they both gazed at the locket. The moonlight streaming in through the door glinted off its golden finish.
Then a frown crossed Takeru's face. His hands unconsciously tightened around Kari's shoulders protectively. "Did you hear that?" He said in an urgent whisper.
Kari looked up. "Hear what?"
"Shh."
By now, all traces of sympathy and comfort had disappeared from the boy's face. He sat up stiffly, looking left and right, all senses strained to the utmost. All of a sudden, everything in the barn looked suspect. The shadows by the haystack, the stalls, any number of things could be hiding in the dark. A shiver ran up his spine.
The boy had never been afraid of the dark, even in his childhood.
So why was he afraid now?
Recalling his father's words of caution, he stood up slowly. "Come on." He offered a hand to Kari, and pulled her up beside him gently but firmly. "We'd best get back to my place as soon as possible. Richard said he wanted us back as soon as possible. It's not safe- "
BOOM! CRACK!!
The side wall of the old barn exploded in a shower of flying wood splinters and dust, crumbling from some terrific, external force. To Takeru's startled eyes, he caught a glimpse of a shadowy gray-black silhouette charging straight through the wall like it was glass, tearing up the barn's wooden floor as it went, so great was its speed.
In the split second it took for the figure to cover the distance across the entire barn, it started to ripple, as if caught in the distortion effect of ripples on a crystal clear pond. A gray cloak materialized out of the darkness, billowing in the wind, and a raised silver scimitar blazed with white fire as it reflected the moon's rays, drawn back for a lethal thrust.
There was no time to think, no time to reason. Reacting on gut instinct, Takeru shoved Kari violently away from the oncoming attack. Sprawling onto her side, Kari heard the boy's yell. "Kari! Get awa- UGH!"
It was too late for Takeru himself to dodge. The soldier was already upon him. On the ground, Kari twisted around desperately, only to see the assassin thrust the winter-keen tip of his scimitar deep into the boy's left shoulder. The blade sliced through muscle and bone, until the gleaming tip exploded out the boy's back in a spray of blood. His scream of pain echoed off the barn walls.
"NO!" she screamed. Staggering upright, she desperately charged the soldier. "Leave him alone!!"
The figure clad in black and gray merely turned around and backhanded her savagely. Sprawling back onto the floor, all she could do was watch helplessly.
Takeru was barely standing, his face ashen. His free hand was clenched around the silver blade buried in his shoulder, as crimson blood flowed liberally down his side, staining his tunic. Contemptuously, the soldier grabbed Takeru's lapel, and effortlessly lifted the boy off the ground.
"T'raylya ohm t'air salatrél…" he hissed softly, the cryptic language rolling sibilantly off his tongue.
Wrenching his blade free in a shower of blood, the assassin savagely hurled the boy away. Takeru hit the ground hard, skidded across the hay-strewn floor like a broken doll.
There were to be no survivors.
"Takeru?! Get away from hi- " Kari tried to dash to the boy's side, but found suddenly found her arms pinioned to her sides. A pair of strong arms snaked their way around her neck, and her head was yanked back in a sleeper hold. All she could manage was a choked scream of surprise.
And as she looked around wildly, she realized they weren't alone.
One by one, the surrounding darkness rippled, and shimmered, peeling apart as if reality had been folded like a piece of paper, and ripped in half. Finally, each distortion gave way to another gray-clad soldier. Slowly, they appeared in a ring around the girl and her fallen friend, ten in all. It was the first time Kari had gotten a real look at their assailants, and her heart skipped a beat as her eyes widened.
There was a golden serpent emblazoned onto their black armour: the symbol of Khaydarin.
Then, the grip tightened. She gasped as she felt her windpipe constrict, cutting off her breathing. Behind her, the Khaydarin soldier that held her lifted her off the ground effortlessly, as she struggled ineffectually against his grip. A burning black fog flickered on the edge of her vision, threatening to engulf her…
Through a red haze of fire, Takeru lifted his head, and slowly levered himself up onto his good elbow. "Let…let her go." he rasped, his voice tight with pain. "She's just a girl..."
Looking down, the first soldier, the Centurion, squatted down beside the fallen boy. The moonlight gleamed off his assassin's facemask. "Just a girl…?" The voice was sibilant, but cold, with a strange accent on the s's. It almost seemed amused. "Little boy, what is she to you?"
In the darkness, the Khaydarin Centurion couldn't tell whether it was blood or tears that traced their way down the blond boy's cheeks.
"She…" Takeru's voice was barely above a whisper. "…she's my friend…"
Behind the mask, the Centurion's thin lips twisted into a cruel smile. Standing up, he backed away from the boy, his scimitar dropping. Praetor Calor had said there were to be no survivors. That didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun. Receiving a nod from his Centurion, the soldier holding Kari shifted his grip from a sleeper hold, to a stranglehold.
"Watch boy." The Centurion sheathed his blade as he observed the scene with satisfaction. "Do you know how someone looks like being strangled to death?"
"No…don't…" Takeru's eyes widened with horror.
To Kari, it felt like her lungs were on fire. Her body screamed for air, but the pressure on her throat remained steady. She couldn't even gasp. Kicking feebly, she tried to free herself, but it was impossible. The soldier behind her was twice as large, and twice as strong. Colourful motes dancing on the edges of her vision, and the black haze closed in until there was only a pinpoint of light. Her struggles grew weaker and weaker.
The assassin hissed almost joyfully. "I've never seen one myself. I usually just kill my victims with outright."
"Don't…" The boy rasped again, dragging himself along the floor.
"Why don't we find out together?"
The Centurion stroked the hilt of his sword absent-mindedly as he watched with sickening fascination. The boy was pitifully trying to lever himself upright, despite his wounded shoulder. Turning, the Centurion smirked as he saw that the girl was almost totally still now, her crimson eyes dimming and closing. The hands clenched at the forearm across her throat loosened almost imperceptibly.
To Kari, the curtain of black was absolutely impenetrable now. It seemed like all her strength was being sapped away, slowly. Shooting stars of light erupted on the edges of her vision, as she felt herself grow limp.
Then inexplicably, the light returned.
What was that she heard?
The sound of running water, of the whistling wind. The roaring fire, and the rumbling earth. Time ceased. A chorus of voices seemed to be whispering to her, but she couldn't make anything out. They seemed to be chanting in some exotic, lyrical language. Random images, memories from some other lifetime, seen through the eyes of some other person, poured through her mind like a torrent.
A peaceful people before a podium, thunderous applause sounding in the air as the people rejoiced before the Lord…
The healthy wail of a newborn baby, a proud king lifting his son up in triumph. "May your reign be long and peaceful…"
The fires of war burning away at a smashed and dying city, her towers and battlements crumbling into dust as a raging army breached her walls…
A lithe, powerful cat-beast, pure white angel wings blazing with divine light sprouting from its back…
It was frightening and wonderful, terrifying and beautiful at the same time.
But above all, a single cryptic symbol seemed to engrave itself onto her mind, even as the voices began to shift into words…
Blessed are they who are chosen,
For the Lord has a great purpose, and a divine will for such as these.
I tell you this, they will work wonders in the name of the Father
and perform miracles in front of many
Suddenly, the Centurion frowned. What is this? His hand stopped caressing his hilt, and gripped it firmly instead. His thumb pushed the scimitar about an inch out of its sheath. What's happening?
On the girl's chest, a faint symbol seemed to glow, resembling a shining, white star. It was faint, barely visible through her tunic. He would most likely have missed it if he hadn't been watching so closely, but it was there. The Centurion frowned as he leaned in closer for a better look.
But they who have seen shall not believe
Their hearts are of lead, and their minds are of stone
And upon such as these, the Lord God shall send his angels of war…
Then, a flickering of muted, golden light at the corner of his vision caught his attention. Turning, he all but leapt back in alarm. His sword cleared his sheath with a vicious hiss.
The boy…
"Leave her alone!!" Takeru screamed, as leaves and stray bits of hay swirled around in a vortex of rippling wind. A strange symbol, a rising meteor glowed…no, burned a brilliant platinum gold on his chest. The boy's normally soft-spoken voice held a note of insanity, of…
…bloodwrath…
Suddenly, the soldier holding Kari suddenly screamed. For no apparent reason, the arm clenched across the girl's throat was suddenly wrenched away, held out quivering in mid-air, as the soldier clenched his teeth against the pain. The limb twisted savagely, on it own accord, so hard that the crack of breaking bone sounded clearly through the dim space. Numbly, Kari collapsed onto the floor as she was let go.
Woe be to him upon whom the wrath of God is poured!
For great is the servant of the Lord,
And terrible is His righteous rage…
On the floor, Takeru twisted his arm around out front. With a sharp, instinctive arm gesture, he pushed… And where he pushed, reality distorted itself into a swirling funnel of destruction. It seemed as if Takeru's palm had sent forth a rippling, sonic stream of air, tearing up the wooden floor as it went…
The soldier holding Kari was consumed instantly as he was blasted, screeching, into the wall. His black armour glowed a fierce white, then caved in and dissolved with an ear-splitting scream of shredded leather. Then he was blasted through the wall, even as his body disintegrated into flaming ashes.
And the most disquieting thing was, Takeru hadn't even touched him…
**********
Outside, Richard was just finishing preparations to the cart when he saw it. With a loud crack, the wall of the Kamiya barn abruptly exploded outwards in a storm of wood chips. One couldn't help but notice.
Cursing, he dropped everything immediately. Setting off on a dead sprint through the night, he ran for the farmhouse, quickly drawing the sword at his side. Not even bothering with the road, he cut straight across the fields, leaping lithely across brooks and rivers in his haste.
Takeru, hold on…
**********
The moment she was released, Kari collapsed, rolling on the floor. Coughing viciously, she greedily sucked in lungfuls of air. Huddling in a shivering bundle on the hay-strewn floor, the faint snow-white symbol of the morning star fading from her chest as quickly as it had appeared. Instead, she watched with horrid fascination as her childhood friend, one of the most gentle and caring people she knew, went insane…
As Takeru was mobbed, he struggled furiously. Seizing the Khaydarin blade the dead soldier had dropped, the boy flailed around dangerously with it, and several careless soldiers were killed instantly. His golden glow brightened, then dimmed, brightened, then dimmed again. Takeru obviously had no control over it. To Kari's startled eyes, the strange, cryptic symbol, resembling a rising meteor, flashed boldly on his chest, visible even through his blood saturated tunic.
What is he wearing under his shirt?
With a half-crazed scream and a resounding crash, Takeru's blade crashed into the Centurion's scimitar with a blinding spray of white-hot sparks. The force of the blow drove the soldier skidding along the floor for several paces.
Although insane, the Centurion reflected grimly, the boy apparently knew how to use a sword. And very well too. No one in this quiet backwater village should have such an extensive knowledge of such sword techniques, much less use them so instinctively and smoothly.
Where had a simple mountain boy come to learn of such skills? How could a simple mountain boy possess such power?
What was that symbol on his chest?
With a ripple that was now so characteristic of his cloak, the Centurion shimmered into nothingness. In the pitch-black barn, he was all but invisible. Slowly gliding behind the struggling boy, his hand tightened on the hilt of his sword.
On the floor, Kari watched in horror as a form wavered, then snapped into existence, right behind the struggling boy. The moonlight streaming in through the gap in the wall flashed off the raised scimitar's silver blade, kindling it into a blazing white fire. "Takeru! Behind- "
Slash!
Richard's sword cut the Centurion neatly in half. With a horrible animal screech, and a splash of red blood, the Khaydarin commander slumped onto the floor, the silver blade clattering uselessly on the floor. All activity ceased abruptly, as the remaining soldiers turned at this new threat. Takeru collapsed onto his knees, then onto his side as his injuries claimed him.
"Shun Ten Satsu!!" the "farmer" hissed viciously as he charged in a blindingly fast attack, crushing the distance between himself and his opponents like a snake would crush its victim.
The "heavenly sword" succession technique sent two soldiers flying clean through the barn walls, so powerful was its slash. Neither of them had a chance to scream as they were cleaved neatly in half, the unstoppable attack slicing through armour, flesh and bone alike. Even before the corpses had landed, Richard skidded to a halt between Takeru and Kari, and the remaining soldiers. A haze of dust and stray straw bits swirled in the fading wind of his charge.
None of these soldiers can leave this place alive. They've seen far too much…
The remaining five soldiers looked at one another in hesitation. Then, one of the Khaydarin men snarled. Donning his cloak, his form shimmered and blurred. The black form, barely distinguishable from the background, charged straight for Richard.
Slash; slash.
Two smooth strokes later, the now decapitated soldier skidded to a halt on the far side of the barn, rippling back into sight as his cloak was torn to shreds. The maneuver had taken less than a split second. Behind the downed soldier, Richard snarled. Shifting to an offensive position, and lunged forward.
Hissing, the remaining three soldiers took note of the now drastically shrunken odds. One by one, they shimmered and wavered into nothingness as they donned their cloaks. Richard's attack demolished half of the wooden doorway, missing its mark. There were no footsteps to indicate the soldiers' passing. They were just there one moment, and gone the next.
"Merde!!" Richard yanked his blade out savagely from the ruined woodwork. In a heartbeat, Richard had positioned himself back into his default defensive stance, alert for attacks.
But no attacks came. No shimmering, no distortions as they uncloaked to reveal their scimitars. The night air was as still as ice. They were gone like tendrils of mist in a fog. For a long while, Richard remained poised. It was only after he was certain they were gone that he slowly lowered his blade, and relaxed.
He did not, however, sheath his sword.
Behind him he could hear Kari's stifled sobs. "TK?! TK, speak to me…"
Takeru!
Richard turned around abruptly. With three quick strides, he crossed the dark barn, and knelt down by his fallen son's side. Takeru was curled up on the floor, nearly passed out from loss of blood. Kari was already there, desperately trying to stem the bleeding from her friend's shoulder with what looked like the sleeve of her tunic. The once white fabric had already been saturated with blood, dyed a crimson red.
The boy was weeping inconsolably, shaking violently as the bloodwrath left him. In its place was turmoil, and confusion. His shoulders heaved with a roiling mixture of rage and fear, anger and panic. Looking up at his father, his bright blue eyes were pained. Clouded, not with physical pain, but with fear.
Fear of himself. Of what he had become.
As merciful unconsciousness closed around him, the boy managed to whisper one final question.
"Father…
"What the hell is happening to me…?"
Then all was dark.
**********
"For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found…"
- Luke 15: 24
Time seemed to pass Takeru without touching him, except in glancing blows. It might have been days. It might have been weeks. For all he knew, it might have been years. His rest was disturbed, haunted. Several times he seemed to wake up, only to collapse back into unconsciousness again moments later.
Or did he only dream of waking up? What was real, and what was not? Where did dream end, and reality begin?
He seemed to pass through lifetimes in his dreams. Over and over again, he was forced to live through the horrible fight. The mindless hate as the bloodwrath seized him…
And other times, his dreams made no sense. He didn't remember them. Random images, streaming memories that weren't his. People and places he'd never seen, things he'd never done. Happy memories and terrible memories.
War and peace. Hate and love. Despair and hope. All this and more poured through his consciousness. The fires of war, consuming a proud city as it crumbled.
A holy warrior, six great, feathered wings spreading from his back, arching in graceful flight. A divine, golden halo surrounding his form…
And above all, his dreams were filled with that one cryptic symbol, the rising meteor, blazing golden in his foggy thoughts…
The boy gradually awoke to the fragrant smell of burning wood chips. Slowly, his blue eyes opened a crack. He could feel the warmth of the nearby fire on his cheek. As his mind slowly emerged from the gray haze of unconsciousness, he began to take note of his condition.
The first thing he noticed was the pain. His left shoulder was throbbing, and with each heartbeat, he could feel the rent carved viciously into his body. He could still recall the kiss of the icy scimitar as it plunged through his flesh. Despite the wholesome warmth of the fire, his brow was bathed with cold sweat as his body struggled to push back the coming infection, his breathing laboured and pained.
Takeru almost closed his eyes again.
The real world was too painful, too hard to face. To just fall asleep would be so much easier…
But no. Icy resolve hardened in his mind. Pain was a thing of the mind, and the mind could be controlled. The mind could be controlled. Repeating this mantra to himself, his blue eyes opened all the way, and slowly focused.
He was lying on his right side beside a campfire. Someone had bandaged his injury up with a clean, white cloth. Takeru thought he could feel stitches holding his wound together when he moved as well. On the other side, through the bright flames, he could see the sitting figure of his father, examining something in his lap. Judging from the darkness all around him, it was most probably night time. Slowly, he began to remember…
Sudden panic washed over him like breaking ice water. What had happened back at Kari's farm? How had he done the things he'd done? Jerking, he sat up abruptly, then gasped as a burst of fire lanced its way through his shoulder. He had to bite his lip to keep from screaming.
"Take it easy TK," a concerned voice murmured in his ear. Kari pushed the boy back down until he was lying on his back. Taking a damp cloth soaked with cool water, she bathed the boy's fevered brow. "Try not to move. Just relax…"
Somehow, her voice had a soothing effect on the boy. The panic left, replaced only with a gnawing uneasiness. "Kari?" he croaked. His throat felt dry. "What…where…"
"We're safe, TK. You've been out of it for awhile. Your father carried you, and we left Kurtal. Right now, we're deep in the mountains, somewhere in the forest. No-one can find us here." The girl gently brushed a lock of blond hair back from the boy's forehead.
Some of the tension left Takeru's face as he settled back into his straw pallet, trying to conserve his strength. Then he remembered. Suddenly, his blue eyes widened with concern. "Are you…all right?"
Kari grinned. She lifted her chin to show a bruise forming on her throat, and rubbed at it ruefully. "I've been better, but I'll live. Hey, you're the one to talk. That should've been my question."
Her voice softened. "But thanks anyway."
A small, tired grin of relief lit up Takeru's face. He opened his mouth to answer, when Richard's kindly face bent down over him. "So, you're awake, huh?"
The boy recognized his father's face with a jolt. All other thoughts were instantly banished from his mind except for that one, overriding question. "Father?!" The words sprang unbidden from his lips. "What- "
"You scared me for a second there. You lost a lot of blood." Richard ruffled the boy's blond hair affectionately. "Try not to talk, or move too much."
Takeru calmed down a little. "How bad is it?"
Richard replied matter-of-factly. "It was a flesh wound, thank goodness. You should be able to use your left arm again in about two weeks, though not for anything involving strength. Infection is minimal, possibly because it was treated soon, but mainly because your body's just damn stubborn. It won't heal over completely for another month though."
"But father, I-"
"Takeru."
Richard held up a hand, as if to forestall any words physically. He could see the questions in the boy's eyes, but his hand remained firm. Suddenly, the twinkle of humour in the man's eyes was gone. His face became deadly serious.
Slowly, deliberately, he addressed his son.
"Takeru, I have something to tell you. I want you to stay quiet, and not interrupt me until I'm finished. You may ask any questions you have at the end, but I want to get everything out onto the table in one go, because this is not going to be easy for you to accept." Turning, Richard looked at Kari. "And that goes for you too.
"Remember. All I offer, is the truth."
Takeru nodded. Kari arched an eyebrow. She had known the man almost as long as she had known TK. That is to say, forever. And she had rarely seen him so serious, so…grim. In the flickering firelight, he looked…different. His shoulders were slumped with exhaustion, but his eyes burned with bright resolve, hope, and…
…guilt?
Richard settled back, sitting on the loamy earth. For a long moment, he remained silent, his eyes mesmerized with the dancing flame. When he began, his voice was low and husky.
"Takeru. If this had been a simple matter of choosing the best and happiest future for you, I would not tell you this. I would tell you to grow up, fall in love, and live out your life in contentment. I would tell you that ignorance is bliss.
"But it's not that simple. This is not the simple matter of your future. And what I am about to tell you, may shatter your perception of me, and of yourself, forever. Maybe you'll curse me for this. Maybe you'll hate me for coming out with the truth. But that's what it is. The truth.
"You have been a good son, an obedient and faithful son. Believe me when I say this, I love you deeply, and am proud to have served as your father for the past fourteen years." The farmer lowered his eyes.
"But I am not your father."
Takeru and Kari stared at him with an incredulous expression. Not his father?! What was Richard talking about? Of course he was Takeru's father. But they remained quiet, as promised.
For a second, an awkward stillness enveloped the small party around the campfire as Richard lapsed back into silence. A soft gust of wind blew along the forest floor, and the fire flickered in its gentle kiss. Then, the man sighed. Taking hold of the slim package on his lap, he lifted it in his hands. Takeru stared curiously at the object as Richard unwound the top part of the cloth, and grasped what looked like a long handle.
"Let me tell you what happened back at Kari's farm."
"You felt…strange. For a moment, your senses heightened. You could see farther, hear more, feel more. You felt strength surge to your fingertips when you should have nothing left. You blasted a soldier through a wall without even touching him.
"And on your chest," Richard's eyes flashed. "was this symbol."
Takeru's breath caught in his throat as his father pulled on the shaft. With a metallic clink, and a smoothly oiled hiss, a gleaming sliver of silver slid out of the cloth-wrapped package, completely untouched by time.
It was a sword, a magnificent katana. Slightly curved, the razor-sharp edge flashed faintly in the firelight. Takeru's eyes traveled down its steel-blue form, tracing the minutely serrated and smoothly grooved edge all the way to the pointed tip, completely undulled by the ages. The hilt was bandaged with leather to provide for a better grip, and a small hand-guard protected its user. It had none of the fancy tidbits so common in modern katanas. It was what it appeared to be, a stout, lethal blade that would serve its master well in combat.
But that was not what Takeru was staring at.
At the base of the blade, where steel met hilt, was a small insignia. The symbol seemed to leap out at him. The cryptic rising meteor gleamed golden in the firelight, exactly as it had appeared in his dreams. He shot a sharp glance at Richard. That symbol. How had his father known? What was that symbol doing on that sword?
"Takeru, do you remember the Ishida kingdom? The stories I told you?"
The boy nodded. Ever since he had been a little child, his father had told him stories of the Age of Gods, glowing portraits of the times it had once been. Always, they had centered around the legendary kingdom of Ishida, the most powerful and prosperous of them all.
But what relevance could that have to this? The royal family had been wiped out almost fifteen years ago…
"This," Richard gestured at the symbol engraved on the sword, "is one of the most precious and most sought after swords in all of Gaea. Some call it the Ichidou, the royal katana of the Ishida kingdom. On it, is the crest of Ishida, the crest of Hope, symbolic of the Ishidan stand. Only those born of the Ishida royal family, the bloodline of stand-masters, possesses this crest." Richard's eyes seemed to pierce through the boy.
"As do you."
Kari gasped as everything began to make sense…
"Your name is 'Takeru Ishida', brother of Yamato Ishida, son of Queen Nancy and Emperor Masaharu Ishida III, two of the greatest Stand-masters that ruled in the Council. Since your older brother Prince Yamato is dead, you are officially Crown Prince of all Ishida until you're sixteen, at which point you'll become Emperor.
"And that little incident back at Kari's just proved it."
Takeru's head was spinning. Crown Prince? A stand?! I possess a stand?! It was too much. It didn't matter that he had taken a vow of silence for the next few minutes. He couldn't have spoken even if he tried.
Kari was no better. Sitting back, she turned incredulous eyes towards her best friend.
The legendary stand, short for "stand-by-me", was it's master's ultimate incarnation of spirit and soul. Kari had heard a lot about it, and the supposedly extinct race of warriors that wielded it. Each Stand-master had a different stand, with different forms. Some had the incarnation of a lion, some of a serpent, some of an eagle. She had learned that each was reflective of the master's spirit.
As she had learned about the stand's devastatingly destructive power.
Each stand-master had been specifically chosen, and blessed by God to carry out His will. In the name of the Lord, they had toppled kingdoms, and challenged demons. Their wrath and fury, when provoked, was unparalleled. It was said that powerful Kings and mighty Emperors, when confronted with the wrath of the stand-masters, had hidden in caves and begged the rocks of the mountains to fall on them and hide them from the face of the Lord.
Yet, the stand was more than a blind, destructive weapon. The Lord would have none of that. The Stand-masters had also been the ones to bring peace to the land, the ones who had brought about the Age of Gods…
Takeru shook his head. "I don't believe it." No. It was too much. It was not possible. He was nothing, a weakling who couldn't even protect his friend. How could he be expected to save the world, when he couldn't even save Kari? How could God choose him, a simple farmer boy?
Surely, Lord. There must be others out there more capable than me. I am Takeru Takaishi, son of Richard Takaishi, born and bred in the mountain village of Kurtal. I am no Crown Prince…
Or am I?
"Takeru, you have to believe me." Richard's voice was firm. "Fourteen years ago, when Ishida fell, your mother entrusted me with protecting your life. Your life! Your father was dead. Your older brother, prince Yamato, was dead. Your mother died moments after giving you to me. But you…you were our last hope…
"I was a knight of the order of Ishida, one of the best. But I ran. I ran like a coward. I changed my name to 'Richard'. I severed all ties to my past life, my family, my surviving friends and comrades. I became a simple farmer, and settled in Kurtal. But thus far, my mission has been successful.
"You are alive."
The boy bowed his head. It couldn't be true, and yet it was. The battle back in Kurtal had proved that much. He felt betrayed. His voice was barely above a whisper, an anguished murmur.
"You lied to me…"
Richard heaved a sigh. His face contorted with the weight of the guilt he had been carrying for fourteen years. "Takeru, I'm sorry- "
"When were you planning to tell me? Huh?" Takeru's voice was stinging.
Richard continued doggedly. "I couldn't risk telling you your true identity, for if anyone ever found out that there was a stand-master left alive, Khaydarin would surely have assassinated you within a month. You were too young! But now, you seemed to have discovered it all by yourself…"
The boy couldn't breath, couldn't think. He tried to stand, but his shoulder forced him back down again. Unthinking rage and sorrow welled up, drowning out all of his thoughts, all of his reasoning. In pain and confusion, Takeru lashed out viciously, unthinkingly.
"But what about me?! The person?! All this time, all these years, I was nothing more than a…than a burden? A mission?! You never loved me as a son, because you were commanded to take care of me?! Is that it? 'Father'?!" Takeru spat out the last word as he looked away to hide the tears that threatened to fall. Tears of betrayal.
Richard's heart nearly broke at the sight. "Takeru…I…that's not true at all. I loved you as my own son. If not by blood, then by spirit. You were all that I had left, and the pride, the joy I felt as I watched you grow up, it was real!"
Richard paused. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, gentle. "How can I explain a father's love for his son? I can't. It's not something that can be said in words. Perhaps when you grow up, and if you have children of your own, you'll understand what I'm saying. The unconditional love, and the constant yearning for you to become the best you can be. The heartache whenever you cried, the happiness whenever you laughed.
"Takeru, I never had children. I was never even married. But I know beyond a doubt that I've experienced what every father feels, because I loved you as my son. I won't deny it to myself, no matter what you think of me."
Kari watched as Takeru lowered himself tiredly onto his back. He seemed drawn as the initial fit of anger subsided. In its place was weariness. Weariness and sorrow. He rubbed his face with his hand as he struggled to grasp what was being thrown at him. Finally, after a long moment of silence, he spoke quietly.
"Richard. I...I'm sorry. I spoke in haste, in anger…" he sighed. Richard noticed that Takeru intentionally left out the word "father".
"But I just need some time…"
Slowly, Richard nodded. A small measure of relief, and genuine joy spread across his face as just a tiny bit of guilt was lifted off his shoulders. Taking his jacket, he spread the cloth over Takeru like a makeshift blanket. Gently tucking the boy in, he whispered softly. "I know it's a lot to swallow in one night. We'll talk more tomorrow. For now, just rest."
A long silence descended upon the trio, particularly between son, and surrogate father. Kari drew her knees up close to her chest, and gazed at the fire as it danced across the wood. Black night stretched in all directions. Then, her eyes unwittingly fell upon the royal sword, and upon the symbol engraved onto its pommel stone.
She frowned as a lucid thought struck her.
"Mr…um…"
Richard gave her a weak smile. "Just call me what you normally would."
Kari nodded. She motioned towards the sword. "Mr. Richard sir, you said that that symbol is the crest of Ishida, right?"
"That's correct."
"And only the royal family of Ishida has this particular crest, and consequently, a stand. That's why Takeru has one. Other kingdoms and other bloodlines have different crests. The kingdom of Sheid would have their own crest, as would the kingdom of Jakt."
Richard nodded.
"Takeru, did you dream of this symbol? When you were unconscious?"
Confused, Takeru nodded as well.
Kari seemed lost in thought as she stared at the gleaming symbol. Suddenly, she picked up a nearby twig. Smoothing the loamy earth with her free hand, she set the point of the stick into the ground, and began to draw.
"Then sir, what is this symbol?"
Frowning, Richard got up, and walked over to Kari's side. Curious, Takeru also peered at the picture she was drawing on the ground.
Slowly, the picture took shape. It was a simple diagram. A small central circle, from which radiated eight spokes or triangles. Four larger ones at right angles to one another, and four smaller ones in-between. A shining star, casting light upon whatever it touched.
Richard's eyes widened incredulously. He looked at the symbol, then at Kari, and finally back at the symbol again.
"Where the hell did you learn of this symbol?!"
** Author's notes: Geez. Quite a long chapter eh? Do you realize this has to be one of the first digimon fanfics written that focuses on the love between a PARENT and a SON? I have never, in all my time on ff.net, seen another fanfic that focuses on that particular relationship. ^_^
For the not so anime educated, "Shun Ten Satsu", Richard's succession technique, is actually a technique's name I stole off of the series "Rurouni Kenshin". It means, literally, "Instant Heaven Kill", and it's a technique of a character named Seta Soujiro. Remember that. It becomes important later on.
CHECK OUT THIS CONTEST!!!!
Digimon Fanfic Contest!
Hosted and judged by: TK Takaishi
Co-judged by: Kari (Karissa), TS, and Dreamwalker
What I've noticed lately, as I browse around the new fics coming in, is that almost ALL of the incoming fanfics are romance. And sadly, (for me at least, being Christian), more and more are becoming yaoi or yuri. There's only a fair scattering of sibling fics (I wrote one of them ^_^), and precious few friendship fics.
In fact, so much of it is romance that it's gotten to the point where it's starting to stifle creativity! And it's not just fics either. I turned on the radio today, and literally did a tally. Out of all the songs that they played, 90% of it was about romance. I'm not saying that romance is bad or anything, it's just that it's overdone!!
So here's my contest. You don't get a prize or anything, but you do get recognition, and bragging rights. You'd be able to say on your profile "I won this award from TK Takaishi's contest…" etc.:
Confucius theorized about five different relationships:
- Subject and King (which in this context, could be modified to become digidestined / digimon)
- Husband and wife (lover / lover. Or romance)
- Sibling relationships, ie. brother / brother, brother / sister, or sister / sister
- Friend and friend
- Parental relationships, ie. father / son, or father / daughter, or mother / son…of you get the idea!
My challenge to you is to write a short story on any one of the above relationships, EXCEPT ROMANCE. That includes any yaoi, yuri, or incest. Anybody submit anything like that (yaoi / yuri / incest), and I'll throw it in the trash without reading it.
Write a sibling fic on TK and Matt, or Tai and Kari, or even Ken and Osamu! Write a friendship fic between Tai and Matt, or Davis and Ken. Write a digimon / digidestined relationship fic. Kari and Gatomon, Tai and Agumon, Ken and Wormon, etc. I've always considered it incredibly ironic that this relationship is so lacking on ff.net, considering how much emphasis the series puts on it. Try something new!
Has anyone ever written about the journey of Matt's band to fame? I smell a sibling fic, or a friendship fic right there! How about Sora's strained relationship with her mother in 01? When her mother prohibited her from going to that soccer game? That's a parental fic! Write about Cody's dad! Write about TK's novels! Write about TK and Matt being on opposing sides in the American Civil War! Substitute the name "Kari" in for the name "Fa Mulan", and write about her love for her father, or something like that! (I hope you know who Mulan is. If you don't, ask me, and I'll clarify it) You get the idea…
Be creative. Go wild. I'm trying to open up new ways of thinking here. You can put it in any setting you like, make it as AU as you like. Make the characters as old, or as young as you like. Make it as angsty, or as funny as you like.
Basically, I'm trying to prove that brotherly love, for example, could be just as beautiful as romantic love. There's so much more out there than romantic love!
Prizes:
- Best digimon / digidestined fic
- Best sibling fic
- Best friendship fic
- Best parental fic
- Best overall fic (it is possible for a fic to win this category, and any one of the previous four. A fic may win two prizes)
- Reader's choice: similar to Lace123's Takari contest, this one will be awarded to the story with the most reviews.
Tips on how to impress me:
If you're competing, I want you to be serious. I don't buy into this "I'm just writing for fun, so I might as well be careless about it, and produce a load of crap." Sure, I write for fun as well, but I also believe it's much more fun when you push yourself to do the best job you can. I'll be looking for things like theme, characterization, how well you manage to bring out emotions in readers. What's your message? What have you got to say about sibling love, for instance?
In other words, a fic that's nothing but WAFFY, happy fluff without a conflict will not impress me at all. I don't care if you put in fancy vocabulary and flashy descriptions like logan's "Stories of December" (which, BTW, was "mindless fluff". Hey, HE said it, not me!).
I'm not impressed by your ability to string fancy sentences together. Any idiot with a thesaurus can do that. I AM impressed with meaning, the content of your ideas, and how well you manage to bring out emotions in your readers. If your fic doesn't have a point, it won't get very far.
Limitations:
- NO ROMANCE!!
- You may focus on only one of the above relationships in each fic
- Each author may only submit two entries, and those entries must be in different categories. I don't want one really talented author to claim all the prizes.
- ABSOLUTELY NO YAOI, YURI, or INCEST!! KEEP IT UNDER, OR EQUAL TO PG-13!!
- Only single-chapter, short stories are accepted. No series. Sorry, but we judges aren't machines, you know.
- It's perfectly permissible to submit a fic you've already written.
Last details:
To join up and compete, first, review this post. Even if you're not sure what category, which relationship, what title, etc, review anyway and tell me you're interested. I need a rough idea of how many people will be competing to devise a judging system. THEN, when you actually post the story, EMAIL ME DIRECTLY with the following info:
- Title of your fic
- Your pen-name
- The category you're competing under.
The judges, Kari (Karissa), Dreamwalker and TS, are also eligible to submit entries. But don't worry about bias. They won't be in charge of judging themselves, and I have final say in the winners. I on the other hand, will not be submitting anything. Even if I do win something, it'll look so rigged, nobody'll believe me anyway. _*
I'm well aware that exams are coming up for all you students out there (including me). Submission deadline isn't until July 7th, plenty of time to write even after exams are over. Then give me and the judges some time to, well…judge, and I'll post the winners!
Until then, good luck to you all! May the best author win!