It always begins with a simple thing, the prelude to a grand crescendo. That is how the wheel of life moves. And so it was with the young person, unwittingly to become yet another piece in an epic that would last for years to come. But of course, that is what a story is all about.
"Joshua!" The cry came out clearly, causing the young high school student to turn around. The young Asian flashed a half-smile at the source of his name. It was one of his friends, Mon, which short for Ramon.
"Yes, my Khan?" He nodded as the lanky student came over. He joked around with the title, since Ramon was the leader of their gaming group.
"You coming to battle later, quiaff?" He asked, to which Joshua nodded affirmative.
"Aff, my Khan. For the Mongels, eh?" Joshua chuckled, and flashed thumbs up. Joshua being one of the top players of the strategy tabletop game they played. "I have to go now first, have to pick up something from Koshimitsu's you know." He pulled the slightly taller Latino over, and whispered conspiratorially, "I'm getting the sword to-day!"
He shoved the other guy away with a chuckle, and waved him away. "Don't worry about me, I'll be around the place in a while. Catch you there."
"We'll be waiting!" With that Mon left, to join a few other of their group that had gathered a distance away.
Joshua shook his head, the smile fading from his lips, as he concentrated on walking faster to the shop that old Koshimitsu owned. The cold air cut through, and caused him to tug his jacket close, fixing his backpack. It wouldn't help much, but any extra warmth was welcome. He jogged lightly down the street, and in ten minutes time, the youth got to the old shop. He went through the door, a bell chiming as the wooden door swept inside.
The old man sitting behind the counter smiled broadly at seeing Joshua, the elderly Japanese proprietor waving him over. "Ah, Joshua-kun, I have been expecting you…you are truly getting the Ivory Dragon today?" Koshimitsu's eyes strayed towards the elegant looking katana that was on its perch behind him.
Joshua nodded, setting his bag on the counter. "Most definitely…I did fulfill what you asked from me, Koshimitsu-san." He began searching the bag for something, as he spoke.
"Indeed you have." The Japanese man nodded slowly, and looked at Joshua. "Your dedication was truly something to marvel at. You've done your full year at a proper kenjustu dojo, and you managed to progress quite marvelously quickly. I do believe you even managed to impress my son, your Sensei." The gentle smile and words of praise from the man caused Joshua to blush, and smile.
"Ah, I guess…but only because you also helped me out during my other free time." The young man acknowledged the elder Koshimitsu's aid.
"Perhaps, perhaps…" The old man touched a finger to his lips in thought. Just then, Joshua managed to pull out the small box that contained a full year of his allowances and savings. He sighed, and felt his heart pound. Inside the box, besides all the strenuous training he'd endured, was 750 dollars. His friends didn't know why he was paying so much just for a sword, when he could easily order one for half the price.
But the Ivory Dragon is special.And indeed it was, he could still remember that day over a year ago when he'd touched the sword. Instantly, he could feel as if it was his, like the companion he had lost long ago in times past. He had laughed then, shaking the feeling off, knowing that the idea was rather ludicrous. But even then, he'd come back to the old shop time and time again to look at the ancient sword.
He'd discovered that Kai had received the blade from his grandfather, and that the sword's story stretched back centuries. The old man had winked at him during one of those story-telling sessions, saying that the legendary Japanese swordsman Mushashi had actually used the sword. That had sealed Joshua's decision.
He had spoken to the old man, and asked how it would be possible for him to acquire the sword. And thus he had been posed the challenge, to enroll at his son-in-law's dojo and take a full year, as well as saving up all the money he could for a whole year, minus the Christmas season of course. A test of determination that he had now passed, Joshua smiled in his heart.
The old man had stood up and taken the old sword down from its perch, and now cradled it carefully, and placed it down on the countertop. "This old sword has been in my family for five generations, and two more before that." A twinkle appeared in Kai's eyes. "And here's to hoping it lasts another five generations with your line, eh?" He chuckled and bowed slightly, handing the weapon over to Joshua.
The youth placed the black money box on the counter and raised both his hands to receive the weapon, bowing as well, just slightly lower then Kai's own bow. The weapon's weight shifted as it was placed fully on Joshua's hands. The feel of the sword sent a chilling tingle running up Joshua's spine. At the same time, it felt like there was a warm completeness that enveloped his heart.
"It seems you are pleased, mmm?" Kai smiled, laughing softly. The old man's wrinkled hands pushed the black box with Joshua's money back towards the student. "Take this back…I do not really need this."
Joshua nodded silently, his mouth opening like a fish for a few moments before he managed to speak. "W-what? Are you sure? Wasn't this part of…"
"Merely a test, young one." The Koshimitsu winked at Joshua, causing the youth to whoop in his cheer. He gestured at the old sword. "Careful, you do not want to damage that."
"I won't, I'll take good care of it, I swear!" Joshua's dark eyes sparkled in barely contained mirth, and he quickly placed the weapon back on the counter, grabbed his bag to whip it back on, and then retook the blade. "I need to show this to the guys! I'll be back again tomorrow, Koshimitsu-san!" Joshua cried out as he maneuvered his way out the small shop, to head towards the gaming center where Mon and his friends were by now playing.
He barely managed to avoid the man coming into the shop with a slide and twist, then he was back out again in the cool wind. The sun was setting slowly over the horizon, dusk already claiming and washing out the light. He walked briskly up the street, and had turned a corner when he realized he'd forgotten his moneybox. He shook his head, and slapped his face lightly with one hand, and turned around to run back to the shop.
Stupid Joshua!
He got back in a few minutes, his breath starting to get a bit heavy when he pushed the door in, and walked inside. "Hey, I'm back, just forgot my…" He had taken barely three steps in when his words were cut off when the scenario in front of him registered in his mind. The pool of blood that surrounded the aged Koshimitsu, who lay on the floor leaning against a battered shelf, spread ever so slowly in his mind. The image was forever to haunt Joshua. Then the man standing over the body, a punk of no repute, and with no reason to commit the murder save that perhaps the old man had struggled against him and had been shot in the hot-headed robbery.
The murderer-thief spun around at the sound of Joshua's voice, the pistol in his hand still shaking. The pair stood, both shocked in their own was, just a few feet apart. The worst criminals were the dumb ones, since they acted without thinking, and the one before Joshua was most definitely a dumb one. This was reinforced even more when Joshua noticed the gun begin to rise ever so slowly. The alarm of danger shrieked in his mind like never before, and time seemed to slow before his eyes. The sight of Kai, lying dead, two bullet holes through his chest, the sight of a gun rising, and the panicked animal look of the man in front of him. The three imaged throbbed in his mind, like something that swelled larger with every heartbeat, with every second that passed.
"Draw the sword!"
He could feel the blade in his hands, the fine lines of the grain of the wooden sheath in his hand, the smoothness of the lacquered piece feeling disturbingly in great detail in his mind. Even the small bumps and texture of the cloth wrapping around the handle, the cool metallic feel of the hilt and handle, he felt everything down to the tiniest detail, all impressed upon his mind fully in that instant. And the barrel of the gun had yet to move upwards any more.
"Strike, swiftly or death will come upon you."
Tears clouded his eyes, and his vision faded. All he remembered from then on was a flash, and the color of blood filling his sight.
"Mutant energy flare detected." The soft voice rang in the chamber, audible to its only occupant. The man nodded mentally, and sent forth his mind to search for the flare that signified a young mutant coming into his powers. The flare had been a rather volatile one, which probably made this one a psychic, perhaps, but if anything he was sure whoever it was had strong latent powers. He reached out, using the powerful technology at his disposal and his mind to pinpoint the location of this one. It was difficult, since the signal fluctuated very erratically.
There!
He took off the metallic helmet and turned around to summon the younger ones.
In moments the shudder and boom of an aircraft lifting off filled the darkened skies, and a shadowy shape rocketed through the growing night, the last rays of the sun disappearing from sight.
They were everywhere. What they were, he did not even know completely. A barrage of sounds, the movement of the air touching his skin as he ran, the feel of his clothes, the blurred slow-motion thing that his sight had become, the information that was sent into his mind was overwhelming, and he did the only thing he was capable of, running. And he ran and ran, to where he did not know.
All he knew was that the scent of death was heavy upon him. If he could, he would wonder why he could even put a name or description to the aura and scent when he'd never even actually killed before. The shadows blurred, and a thunderous boom reached his ears. Another overload, and he stumbled to the ground with another scream that only made his mind hurt more. His mind shuddered with it all.
Too much!
When the shadows came, he lashed out, to find that he had missed. Then there was the scent of blood, and something else he could only name as foul and acrid. Voices, movement were added to the chaotic equations in his mind.
Too much!
He cried out, "Go away! Stop moving!"
But they didn't, just like the first one. So he lashed out again, and heard the ring of metal upon metal in the air. He spun around wildly slashing with what he could only feel was a weapon in his hand. "Go away!" He barely heard their words; it was such a cacophony of sounds that blended in his mind. A red flash, and he found himself flung to the side. Then he felt an intense pulse of energy forming up against him, shuddering, the slipping through to spike into his already confused and unstable state of mind. And once again, darkness clouded his vision as a painful flare exploded from his chest.
Too much…
The young man collapsed to the ground, after a well-placed blow from the one known as Wolverine, who sported a deep cut from the katana-wielding youth now lying on the ground. His healing factor had already kicked in, and the wound was already starting to heal, though the blood that he'd lost was spattered over the shoulder and front of his costume. By the time they would get back to the Xavier Institute, there would be no trace of any injury at all but for those stains. The stocky brawler raised his hand and thumbed at the dark aircraft behind them. "Take him inside."
"Hey, the kid looks familiar." Scott mused, looking at the fallen youth through a reddish haze. He shook his head, and a frown graced his expression. "He looks like someone from school…"
"Well, I'm just glad he's out now. The waves he was sending out almost put me down!" Jean rubbed her temple, still wincing from the overload when she connected with the unconscious boy to deliver the psychic blow that struck him out cold.
"Enough chatter! Get him in the Blackbird!" Wolverine barked, tracing a finger over the open seam in his costume and slowly healing wound that lay beneath, and effectively breaking through the discussion.
A hazy light filtered through, and Joshua made out a few blurred images through his vision. He still sported the great-grandfather of all headaches, he thought, as a pounding kind of feeling throbbed in his head. He managed to make out a few hushed voices, and a faint presence that was old and familiar.
Where am I?
The rather panicked though flashed through his mind, and he tried to move sluggish muscles to his command, only to find himself utterly exhausted and for the lack of energy, unable to move. A sensation of calm and patience overcame him after a moment, as if a hand had covered his emotions and brushed it over, invoking the thought of weariness even more.
Yeah…sleep, sounds nice.
Darkness once more eclipsed his vision, and he fell into the arms of slumber.