Chapter 6 -- Time
Time was precious. It flowed on, and it would always soon be gone. It cared not whether you accomplished what you needed to, nor whether it passed as a viscous syrup. Time could be an enemy, or it could be friend. It changed people, it changed their appearance, their health, their strength and vitality, or even personalities. Ichiro saw time, and it was not his friend. Through time, he saw many things. But he was also changing greatly, and time was helping. Ryan wasn't affected by time. Why? What made him so exempt, so that he could stay as young as in his prime, never change, never age. Always as youthful as he had been, always to retain his beauty, his strength, his life, his health. Ichiro scowled at this. It made him uncomfortable to retain his relationship with Ryan in front of others, who looked at him, Ichiro, as if he were some sort of dirty old man, some pervert who only sought the company of some one who was far younger than himself. In sooth, Ryan was only two or three years younger than him, but he didn't look it at all. Forty-seven, and he still looked twenty. Ichiro? Forty-nine, and he looked it, as well. If not worse. What was to stop Ryan from seeking some one who looked his age? What was to stop Ryan from looking for some one who wasn't likely to keel over from age as a partner? Ryan wouldn't die from age, no, he'd live on; he couldn't be touched. Time was Ryan's friend. The friend of an enemy is my enemy, too... Ichiro shook his head, not wanting to think that. He walked through the corridors, and happened to glance in a dark, reflective window. He saw his reflection, he saw the odd man that looked back at him. Ichiro looked away. No, he was going to be like Ryan, his hair wasn't turning like steel against him like this, his face wasn't sagging and folding away slowly. Torture! This was torture. The one he loved would live on forever, and he wouldn't be able to stay with him forever. He would die, and Ryan would not, could not. He knew that Ryan would probably try to kill himself if he died, just to be with him.
Ichiro glanced to the side. There, look, that handsome young officer. What if Ryan should see him, and change his affection? Or there, that one-- Ichiro looked around again, furious. How was he to be able to watch over Ryan always, to be sure he didn't stray? What can I offer him, that these other can't too, and better with their youth? Ichiro watched desperately the others as they went about their business. How was he to know if Ryan was loyal? After all, he had shown capability for treachery when he was younger, did he not? He strayed from Ash for him.. And back to Ash, and back to Ichiro... And did Ryan not try to kill his own father and brother? Ryan tried to kill his own blood... What's to say he might, in some form of sick mercy, kill Ichiro too, if I he found about his ponderings? Or maybe he was going to kill him, to get him out of the way. He was old, he couldn't possibly offer more than these others... But I'm not that old! Middle age isn't that old!! Is it? Ichiro glanced furtively at himself again in another glass. No, he didn't look that bad, did he? Was he only exaggerating things, taking them out of proportion to feed a paranoia?
Ryan sat alone in his home. Minutes seemed to pass like hours, on and on with out Ichiro. Ryan was biding his time by thinking. Everything seemed to be moving on ahead well, everything for the company was going smoothly. No obstacles to pass, so far. But were there? Everyone seemed to be taking his leadership so well, even considering the circumstances that brought him to this level. There were, of course those who were trying to find ways to discover Makato's whereabouts, and bringing him back. Yet so far, there had been no problems. Ryan smiled faintly. So he had security, he had someplace that he could live and be well, and also he had Ichiro, some one who he could trust and confide in. Ah, Ichiro. Ryan looked darkly now, brooding. He wondered what he would do once Ichiro was gone. Unlike him, Ichiro could not live forever. Ichiro would eventually crumple and die away, as time saw fit. Ah, time. How painful. Ryan looked pained. He couldn't age, he couldn't die, not like Ichiro. Not like everyone else. Why couldn't he be like everyone else, be normal, lead a normal life, age, and then die? Like it should be. Ryan felt fear. He didn't want to be alone, he didn't want to be with out Ichiro. What if there was a way, that Ichiro could live forever, with him? Or, if there was a way that he, Ryan, could proceed through the rest of his life like any other human. But he wasn't human, was he? Again, Ryan returned to a single question that tormented him: Why was he created? In a lab, from the genes of a human and a pokemon, then left to die there when he proved to be unsatisfactory. He didn't look human. He looked more like his other parent, the Mew. Yet, his sister had contracted a rare, unknown sickness, and succumbed to suspended animation, and was mistaken for dead. From this, he was forced into human form, by processes rumoured to be heinously painful for the young kit. He didn't stay human for too long, though. He proved to be too powerful, and reverted partially back to his true form. This also showed him to be unsatisfactory again, and more so when his elder brother joined Team Rocket, something much unexpected.
Ryan blinked. His brother. He had hated him, then finally set aside the differences and forged a friendship, then he brutally maimed Makato, betrayed his trust. Makato never forgave him. Ryan had even overthrown Makato from his position as Boss in Team Rocket. He fought him. He exiled him. He refused to kill Makato, refused completely. Now, the hate was transferred. Mason, his nephew, hated him. Did Makato still hate Ryan, where ever he was now?
Ryan changed his thoughts. He would just have to ignore the hatred that others harboured for him. Yet, could he? Twice before, he tried to take his own life, commit suicide, erase himself. All because he knew he was hated, and felt all the more useless for it. Ryan scowled. Let others decide his fate, that was something he was trying to cease. Just ignore those who wish ill. It didn't matter, and they didn't matter. Ryan turned his gaze from the empty wall to the mirror, visible from the open door to the bathroom. He could see his reflection. He frowned. Shouldn't he be happy, see, he still had his youth, his handsome countenance was untouched. No, it wasn't. Ryan tsked, and let the masking fall. Upon him appeared the numerous scars that he had from ages ago, that he now hid from others so that they wouldn't stare in wonder or horror, whichever. Now, he looked as he should, but still... Ryan was bothered by his lack of aging. Here he was, nearly fifty years of age, and he showed it not one bit. He still looked like a young man of twenty. Albeit now with scars, one pair crossed above his right eye, and one that slashed over his left eye. All the ones on his face. The rest were all over the rest of him. Marking where ever he had been wounded, whether by slash, by broken bones that had torn through to reside outside his skin...
Time was precious. It flowed on, and it would always soon be gone. It cared not whether you accomplished what you needed to, nor whether it passed as a viscous syrup. Time could be an enemy, or it could be friend. It changed people, it changed their appearance, their health, their strength and vitality, or even personalities. Ichiro saw time, and it was not his friend. Through time, he saw many things. But he was also changing greatly, and time was helping. Ryan wasn't affected by time. Why? What made him so exempt, so that he could stay as young as in his prime, never change, never age. Always as youthful as he had been, always to retain his beauty, his strength, his life, his health. Ichiro scowled at this. It made him uncomfortable to retain his relationship with Ryan in front of others, who looked at him, Ichiro, as if he were some sort of dirty old man, some pervert who only sought the company of some one who was far younger than himself. In sooth, Ryan was only two or three years younger than him, but he didn't look it at all. Forty-seven, and he still looked twenty. Ichiro? Forty-nine, and he looked it, as well. If not worse. What was to stop Ryan from seeking some one who looked his age? What was to stop Ryan from looking for some one who wasn't likely to keel over from age as a partner? Ryan wouldn't die from age, no, he'd live on; he couldn't be touched. Time was Ryan's friend. The friend of an enemy is my enemy, too... Ichiro shook his head, not wanting to think that. He walked through the corridors, and happened to glance in a dark, reflective window. He saw his reflection, he saw the odd man that looked back at him. Ichiro looked away. No, he was going to be like Ryan, his hair wasn't turning like steel against him like this, his face wasn't sagging and folding away slowly. Torture! This was torture. The one he loved would live on forever, and he wouldn't be able to stay with him forever. He would die, and Ryan would not, could not. He knew that Ryan would probably try to kill himself if he died, just to be with him.
Ichiro glanced to the side. There, look, that handsome young officer. What if Ryan should see him, and change his affection? Or there, that one-- Ichiro looked around again, furious. How was he to be able to watch over Ryan always, to be sure he didn't stray? What can I offer him, that these other can't too, and better with their youth? Ichiro watched desperately the others as they went about their business. How was he to know if Ryan was loyal? After all, he had shown capability for treachery when he was younger, did he not? He strayed from Ash for him.. And back to Ash, and back to Ichiro... And did Ryan not try to kill his own father and brother? Ryan tried to kill his own blood... What's to say he might, in some form of sick mercy, kill Ichiro too, if I he found about his ponderings? Or maybe he was going to kill him, to get him out of the way. He was old, he couldn't possibly offer more than these others... But I'm not that old! Middle age isn't that old!! Is it? Ichiro glanced furtively at himself again in another glass. No, he didn't look that bad, did he? Was he only exaggerating things, taking them out of proportion to feed a paranoia?
Ryan sat alone in his home. Minutes seemed to pass like hours, on and on with out Ichiro. Ryan was biding his time by thinking. Everything seemed to be moving on ahead well, everything for the company was going smoothly. No obstacles to pass, so far. But were there? Everyone seemed to be taking his leadership so well, even considering the circumstances that brought him to this level. There were, of course those who were trying to find ways to discover Makato's whereabouts, and bringing him back. Yet so far, there had been no problems. Ryan smiled faintly. So he had security, he had someplace that he could live and be well, and also he had Ichiro, some one who he could trust and confide in. Ah, Ichiro. Ryan looked darkly now, brooding. He wondered what he would do once Ichiro was gone. Unlike him, Ichiro could not live forever. Ichiro would eventually crumple and die away, as time saw fit. Ah, time. How painful. Ryan looked pained. He couldn't age, he couldn't die, not like Ichiro. Not like everyone else. Why couldn't he be like everyone else, be normal, lead a normal life, age, and then die? Like it should be. Ryan felt fear. He didn't want to be alone, he didn't want to be with out Ichiro. What if there was a way, that Ichiro could live forever, with him? Or, if there was a way that he, Ryan, could proceed through the rest of his life like any other human. But he wasn't human, was he? Again, Ryan returned to a single question that tormented him: Why was he created? In a lab, from the genes of a human and a pokemon, then left to die there when he proved to be unsatisfactory. He didn't look human. He looked more like his other parent, the Mew. Yet, his sister had contracted a rare, unknown sickness, and succumbed to suspended animation, and was mistaken for dead. From this, he was forced into human form, by processes rumoured to be heinously painful for the young kit. He didn't stay human for too long, though. He proved to be too powerful, and reverted partially back to his true form. This also showed him to be unsatisfactory again, and more so when his elder brother joined Team Rocket, something much unexpected.
Ryan blinked. His brother. He had hated him, then finally set aside the differences and forged a friendship, then he brutally maimed Makato, betrayed his trust. Makato never forgave him. Ryan had even overthrown Makato from his position as Boss in Team Rocket. He fought him. He exiled him. He refused to kill Makato, refused completely. Now, the hate was transferred. Mason, his nephew, hated him. Did Makato still hate Ryan, where ever he was now?
Ryan changed his thoughts. He would just have to ignore the hatred that others harboured for him. Yet, could he? Twice before, he tried to take his own life, commit suicide, erase himself. All because he knew he was hated, and felt all the more useless for it. Ryan scowled. Let others decide his fate, that was something he was trying to cease. Just ignore those who wish ill. It didn't matter, and they didn't matter. Ryan turned his gaze from the empty wall to the mirror, visible from the open door to the bathroom. He could see his reflection. He frowned. Shouldn't he be happy, see, he still had his youth, his handsome countenance was untouched. No, it wasn't. Ryan tsked, and let the masking fall. Upon him appeared the numerous scars that he had from ages ago, that he now hid from others so that they wouldn't stare in wonder or horror, whichever. Now, he looked as he should, but still... Ryan was bothered by his lack of aging. Here he was, nearly fifty years of age, and he showed it not one bit. He still looked like a young man of twenty. Albeit now with scars, one pair crossed above his right eye, and one that slashed over his left eye. All the ones on his face. The rest were all over the rest of him. Marking where ever he had been wounded, whether by slash, by broken bones that had torn through to reside outside his skin...
