@-;--- @-;--- @-;--- @-;--- @-;--- @-;--- @-;---
** SPOILERS FOR EP. 40 AND ON **
@-;--- @-;--- @-;--- @-;--- @-;--- @-;--- @-;---
The Calling
By Moonsong
tsukinouta@yahoo.com
Part 7: Legacy
A light rain started to fall as father and son glared at each
other across the slowly muddying road.
"I asked you a question, Kishuku. Where did you learn to fight
like that?"
"I thought you were sick..." the boy evaded, picking up the
packet of medicine he had dropped during the scuffle and
clutching it like a lifeline.
The older man's eyes darkened. He didn't take lightly to an
announcement of his own weakness in the middle of the street,
never mind that they were the only ones within earshot.
"You were late in returning and your mother was worried. She
didn't want to see you stagger home covered in mud and bruises."
"I can take care of myself!" Kishuku protested.
His father's eyes narrowed. "Not up until recently."
"Why would you care all of a sudden? You never did before."
"I thought you needed to learn to stand up for yourself! Not be
such a weakling!"
Kishuku shot him a pointed glare, his battered confidence rising.
"And now that I can fight back, you're mad."
"I told you to stay away from that man," his father growled. "He
is nothing but trouble."
"Tousan, he's teaching me," he pleaded, eyes begging his father
to understand.
"To fight! I wanted you to learn to stand up for yourself! Not be
a bully!"
The young boy shook his head. "Iie," he said softly. "He's
teaching me how to become a Suzaku no seishi."
"He does not have the right to train you."
"It doesn't matter." The words were spoken in a whisper and at
first, Shiao thought he had misheard.
"Nani?"
Kishuku looked up at his father, his young eyes clear. "Whether
he trains me or not, I will have to go when the time comes. Don't
you see? This is my chance to do something with my life; to BE
somebody- not just a farmer in some unknown village..."
"What do you know?" Shiao bit out, the unintentional barb hitting
far closer to home than he would have liked. "You're just a
child."
"I am a Suzaku seishi."
When his father remained silent, Tamahome knew he had scored a
point. It was one he didn't feel any victory in. Defeated, even
though he had won, he dropped his eyes and sighed.
"Gomen nasai, tousan."
With that, he turned and started walking away, effectively ending
the conversation. Shiao could only gape after him.
"Why are you doing this?"
The new voice caused him to whirl. A lithe figure jumped from the
shadows, hitting the dirt with barely a sound.
"I didn't give you permission to begin training him," Shiao
hissed before thinking, his eyes trained to where his small son
had disappeared down the hill.
"Well, that hardly answers my question," Lan smirked and crossed
his arms.
"I don't have to answer to you."
The former seishi sighed. He fully expected to argue with the
addle-brained fool over who exactly had to answer to whom for at
least another hour or so. What a waste of time.
"You should not have trained him."
Surprise briefly flickered over the older man's hawkish face.
'Back to the point, eh?' he thought amusedly. Perhaps there was
some hope for the man after all. "The choice wasn't yours to
make," he replied blandly. This seemed familiar. He prayed for
patience.
"Like hell it wasn't! He is still my son!"
Lan clenched his teeth, forcibly keeping his mouth from spewing
things just to irritate the younger man. In his seishi days, he
would have jumped the boy's father right then and there and
pounded him until he either saw the light or saw stars. Either
way should leave him with a new understanding of the way things
worked.
But this wasn't like the old times. And so much more was at
stake. Lan studied the other man a moment before speaking. "Why
are you so afraid to let your son go?"
The question took him by surprise. It was the second time that
day he'd been at a loss for words.
Lan was unimpressed. "Think about that. Before you lose your
son."
"I will not give him up!" The words were passionate but not as
vehement as before. Perhaps he was getting through after all.
The former Byakko seishi met his gaze. "You won't have to. He
will leave on his own. He is a Suzaku seishi and will follow his
heart when the time comes." He spared the man one last glance,
then turned to resume his way home.
~*~*~*~*~
Sou Shiao-Chang stared up at the ceiling, his mind swirling with
a million different emotions he didn't feel like sorting out. His
wife had given him a solid tongue-lashing the minute she had
entered, most of which he hadn't paid much attention to.
Not that he'd been trying to ignore her, it's just that he
already knew what she was going to say. Balefully, he turned
towards the window, glaring at a set of stars in the southern
region of the sky.
Tamahomeboshi. His son's stars. Even now, they twinkled in a
playful dance, befitting their human counterpart's sunny
personality. Thinking about his young child forced his lips into
a small smile. How proud he was of that boy! Constantly cheerful,
always ready to help out, loving, and devoted to his family
unlike most boys his age; Kishuku was a gift to any parent.
In fact, it was a gift he didn't think he deserved. And now that
he had him, he wanted to make sure he would never have to do
without him.
// What can you offer him? // Lan's feline face floated before
him, his already narrowed eyes accusing.
'What could I offer him?' Shiao mused, resting his weary head
back on the straw and cloth pillow. 'A profitable trade as a
farmer?'
Even he had to admit his young son was too precocious for that,
even if he had wanted to follow in his father's footsteps.
Kishuku was destined for something else, something greater. He
could feel it in his bones, see it every time he looked into his
son's eyes. Kishuku would be miserable if forced to lead the life
he was leading now. And Shiao wanted so much more for him.
So why was he so vehemently opposed to his son becoming a seishi?
Rationalizations flooded his mind, a raging current through a
newly opened dam.
'I don't want him forced into something he doesn't understand.
That man has no right to teach him against my wishes. He is my
son. He's too young. I don't want him to get hurt. I don't want
him to get killed. I'm afraid-'
That last thought stopped him short.
'I'm afraid... dear gods, have I been that selfish?'
Finally, what Kishuku and Lan had been telling him, no, asking
him to understand was coming into sharp focus. He had become what
he had feared most. Memories of a long-forgotten day filled his
mind, the events calling up the same amount of hurt as if it had
been yesterday.
-- -- -- --
"Otousan, I..."
It came faster than he could blink, a rough, hardened hand
connecting with his cheek, flinging his head backwards. Shiao
stumbled once, twice, then fell to the floor staring into the
wrathful gaze of his father. The man stared down at him, eyes
widened with shock, breath coming in sharp gasps.
"Yamete!"
All at once, he was enveloped in soft, warm arms. "Kaasan," he
whispered hoarsely. His throat was numb with pain and shock and
he struggled to hold his tears back. He would not cry. Not in
front of him.
"Half of this is your fault, onna. Filling him with these silly
dreams and foolish ideals. He is MY son and he WILL take over
this farm!"
His mother was crying. He hated seeing her cry. Tenderly, he
reached up and wiped the tears from her eyes, forcing a smile
through his aching mouth. "It'll be all right, kaasan," he lied.
And for that moment, forced himself to believe it. Anything to
take the pain from her eyes. He knew his father took out his
anger on her more often than not. If he was mad at him, she might
be spared.
Nodding softly, she smiled at him, an acknowledgement of his
bluff. Apparently, she could pretend just as well. "Shiao..."
"Go, mother. It will be all right," he whispered again, with a
lightness that didn't quite reach his eyes. She nodded, and with
one last fearful glance at her husband, fled the room.
Shiao didn't watch her go; merely turned his head to face his
father again. The man was watching his wife retreat, unsure for a
moment whether to go after her or not. Shiao decided to give him
something else to deal with. "I don't want your farm," he stated
quietly.
The man turned, his eyes blazing. His hands curled into fists.
The beating began.
-- -- -- --
In the end, it hadn't mattered. Two months after that, a week
before he had been planning to sneak away to study another trade,
the fool had gotten reckless and had been killed in a bar brawl.
Having no one else to turn to, Shiao took over the duties of the
farm and cared for his mother. In the summer of his fifteenth
year, she died. Already too old to be apprenticed to another
master, Shiao had stayed on the farm, the only thing he knew, and
thus became his father's successor.
And now, he was becoming that and more. He was becoming his
father. His heart contracted painfully as he remembered his
actions ever since Lan had arrived and nearly cried out in
anguish. 'What have I done? What have I become?' The answer
terrified him.
He had to do something. Now. The ghost of his father would not
taint his son's life any longer.
That half-formed thought in his mind, he scrambled off the bed
and stumbled to the room his two sons shared. "Kishuku! Kishuku!"
The bundle on the bed didn't move. Shiao seized the blanket.
"Kishuku-"
The boy was gone.
~ TBC ~
Author's Notes: There's something fitting about listening to the
soundtrack from both the Street Fighter Animated Movie and the TV
series while writing this fic. Out of all the seishi, Tamahome is
most like a street fighter- in fact, he's been involved in a few
street brawls himself, ne? *laughs* In any case, I'm just glad I
was able to find the inspiration to finish this much. One more
chapter to go, everyone!
*smirk* Or should I stop now before I ruin this story further?
Credits for this go to Felicia, aka Tomo no Miko, whose site I
used to get the info regarding Tokaki, such as his real name,
etc. *bows* Visit her site at:
http://www.sempai.org/~felicia/fushigi.html
Disclaimer: All original materials belong to their respective
owners. Fushigi Yuugi belongs to Watase Yuu and a bunch of big
companies. No copyright infringement is intended. The story is
mine and I would appreciate an email asking me for permission
before posting it anywhere else.
Copyright © December 30, 2000 by Moonsong. All Rights Reserved.
http://www.midnightrevolution.org/moonsong/
** SPOILERS FOR EP. 40 AND ON **
@-;--- @-;--- @-;--- @-;--- @-;--- @-;--- @-;---
The Calling
By Moonsong
tsukinouta@yahoo.com
Part 7: Legacy
A light rain started to fall as father and son glared at each
other across the slowly muddying road.
"I asked you a question, Kishuku. Where did you learn to fight
like that?"
"I thought you were sick..." the boy evaded, picking up the
packet of medicine he had dropped during the scuffle and
clutching it like a lifeline.
The older man's eyes darkened. He didn't take lightly to an
announcement of his own weakness in the middle of the street,
never mind that they were the only ones within earshot.
"You were late in returning and your mother was worried. She
didn't want to see you stagger home covered in mud and bruises."
"I can take care of myself!" Kishuku protested.
His father's eyes narrowed. "Not up until recently."
"Why would you care all of a sudden? You never did before."
"I thought you needed to learn to stand up for yourself! Not be
such a weakling!"
Kishuku shot him a pointed glare, his battered confidence rising.
"And now that I can fight back, you're mad."
"I told you to stay away from that man," his father growled. "He
is nothing but trouble."
"Tousan, he's teaching me," he pleaded, eyes begging his father
to understand.
"To fight! I wanted you to learn to stand up for yourself! Not be
a bully!"
The young boy shook his head. "Iie," he said softly. "He's
teaching me how to become a Suzaku no seishi."
"He does not have the right to train you."
"It doesn't matter." The words were spoken in a whisper and at
first, Shiao thought he had misheard.
"Nani?"
Kishuku looked up at his father, his young eyes clear. "Whether
he trains me or not, I will have to go when the time comes. Don't
you see? This is my chance to do something with my life; to BE
somebody- not just a farmer in some unknown village..."
"What do you know?" Shiao bit out, the unintentional barb hitting
far closer to home than he would have liked. "You're just a
child."
"I am a Suzaku seishi."
When his father remained silent, Tamahome knew he had scored a
point. It was one he didn't feel any victory in. Defeated, even
though he had won, he dropped his eyes and sighed.
"Gomen nasai, tousan."
With that, he turned and started walking away, effectively ending
the conversation. Shiao could only gape after him.
"Why are you doing this?"
The new voice caused him to whirl. A lithe figure jumped from the
shadows, hitting the dirt with barely a sound.
"I didn't give you permission to begin training him," Shiao
hissed before thinking, his eyes trained to where his small son
had disappeared down the hill.
"Well, that hardly answers my question," Lan smirked and crossed
his arms.
"I don't have to answer to you."
The former seishi sighed. He fully expected to argue with the
addle-brained fool over who exactly had to answer to whom for at
least another hour or so. What a waste of time.
"You should not have trained him."
Surprise briefly flickered over the older man's hawkish face.
'Back to the point, eh?' he thought amusedly. Perhaps there was
some hope for the man after all. "The choice wasn't yours to
make," he replied blandly. This seemed familiar. He prayed for
patience.
"Like hell it wasn't! He is still my son!"
Lan clenched his teeth, forcibly keeping his mouth from spewing
things just to irritate the younger man. In his seishi days, he
would have jumped the boy's father right then and there and
pounded him until he either saw the light or saw stars. Either
way should leave him with a new understanding of the way things
worked.
But this wasn't like the old times. And so much more was at
stake. Lan studied the other man a moment before speaking. "Why
are you so afraid to let your son go?"
The question took him by surprise. It was the second time that
day he'd been at a loss for words.
Lan was unimpressed. "Think about that. Before you lose your
son."
"I will not give him up!" The words were passionate but not as
vehement as before. Perhaps he was getting through after all.
The former Byakko seishi met his gaze. "You won't have to. He
will leave on his own. He is a Suzaku seishi and will follow his
heart when the time comes." He spared the man one last glance,
then turned to resume his way home.
~*~*~*~*~
Sou Shiao-Chang stared up at the ceiling, his mind swirling with
a million different emotions he didn't feel like sorting out. His
wife had given him a solid tongue-lashing the minute she had
entered, most of which he hadn't paid much attention to.
Not that he'd been trying to ignore her, it's just that he
already knew what she was going to say. Balefully, he turned
towards the window, glaring at a set of stars in the southern
region of the sky.
Tamahomeboshi. His son's stars. Even now, they twinkled in a
playful dance, befitting their human counterpart's sunny
personality. Thinking about his young child forced his lips into
a small smile. How proud he was of that boy! Constantly cheerful,
always ready to help out, loving, and devoted to his family
unlike most boys his age; Kishuku was a gift to any parent.
In fact, it was a gift he didn't think he deserved. And now that
he had him, he wanted to make sure he would never have to do
without him.
// What can you offer him? // Lan's feline face floated before
him, his already narrowed eyes accusing.
'What could I offer him?' Shiao mused, resting his weary head
back on the straw and cloth pillow. 'A profitable trade as a
farmer?'
Even he had to admit his young son was too precocious for that,
even if he had wanted to follow in his father's footsteps.
Kishuku was destined for something else, something greater. He
could feel it in his bones, see it every time he looked into his
son's eyes. Kishuku would be miserable if forced to lead the life
he was leading now. And Shiao wanted so much more for him.
So why was he so vehemently opposed to his son becoming a seishi?
Rationalizations flooded his mind, a raging current through a
newly opened dam.
'I don't want him forced into something he doesn't understand.
That man has no right to teach him against my wishes. He is my
son. He's too young. I don't want him to get hurt. I don't want
him to get killed. I'm afraid-'
That last thought stopped him short.
'I'm afraid... dear gods, have I been that selfish?'
Finally, what Kishuku and Lan had been telling him, no, asking
him to understand was coming into sharp focus. He had become what
he had feared most. Memories of a long-forgotten day filled his
mind, the events calling up the same amount of hurt as if it had
been yesterday.
-- -- -- --
"Otousan, I..."
It came faster than he could blink, a rough, hardened hand
connecting with his cheek, flinging his head backwards. Shiao
stumbled once, twice, then fell to the floor staring into the
wrathful gaze of his father. The man stared down at him, eyes
widened with shock, breath coming in sharp gasps.
"Yamete!"
All at once, he was enveloped in soft, warm arms. "Kaasan," he
whispered hoarsely. His throat was numb with pain and shock and
he struggled to hold his tears back. He would not cry. Not in
front of him.
"Half of this is your fault, onna. Filling him with these silly
dreams and foolish ideals. He is MY son and he WILL take over
this farm!"
His mother was crying. He hated seeing her cry. Tenderly, he
reached up and wiped the tears from her eyes, forcing a smile
through his aching mouth. "It'll be all right, kaasan," he lied.
And for that moment, forced himself to believe it. Anything to
take the pain from her eyes. He knew his father took out his
anger on her more often than not. If he was mad at him, she might
be spared.
Nodding softly, she smiled at him, an acknowledgement of his
bluff. Apparently, she could pretend just as well. "Shiao..."
"Go, mother. It will be all right," he whispered again, with a
lightness that didn't quite reach his eyes. She nodded, and with
one last fearful glance at her husband, fled the room.
Shiao didn't watch her go; merely turned his head to face his
father again. The man was watching his wife retreat, unsure for a
moment whether to go after her or not. Shiao decided to give him
something else to deal with. "I don't want your farm," he stated
quietly.
The man turned, his eyes blazing. His hands curled into fists.
The beating began.
-- -- -- --
In the end, it hadn't mattered. Two months after that, a week
before he had been planning to sneak away to study another trade,
the fool had gotten reckless and had been killed in a bar brawl.
Having no one else to turn to, Shiao took over the duties of the
farm and cared for his mother. In the summer of his fifteenth
year, she died. Already too old to be apprenticed to another
master, Shiao had stayed on the farm, the only thing he knew, and
thus became his father's successor.
And now, he was becoming that and more. He was becoming his
father. His heart contracted painfully as he remembered his
actions ever since Lan had arrived and nearly cried out in
anguish. 'What have I done? What have I become?' The answer
terrified him.
He had to do something. Now. The ghost of his father would not
taint his son's life any longer.
That half-formed thought in his mind, he scrambled off the bed
and stumbled to the room his two sons shared. "Kishuku! Kishuku!"
The bundle on the bed didn't move. Shiao seized the blanket.
"Kishuku-"
The boy was gone.
~ TBC ~
Author's Notes: There's something fitting about listening to the
soundtrack from both the Street Fighter Animated Movie and the TV
series while writing this fic. Out of all the seishi, Tamahome is
most like a street fighter- in fact, he's been involved in a few
street brawls himself, ne? *laughs* In any case, I'm just glad I
was able to find the inspiration to finish this much. One more
chapter to go, everyone!
*smirk* Or should I stop now before I ruin this story further?
Credits for this go to Felicia, aka Tomo no Miko, whose site I
used to get the info regarding Tokaki, such as his real name,
etc. *bows* Visit her site at:
http://www.sempai.org/~felicia/fushigi.html
Disclaimer: All original materials belong to their respective
owners. Fushigi Yuugi belongs to Watase Yuu and a bunch of big
companies. No copyright infringement is intended. The story is
mine and I would appreciate an email asking me for permission
before posting it anywhere else.
Copyright © December 30, 2000 by Moonsong. All Rights Reserved.
http://www.midnightrevolution.org/moonsong/