Chapter Two
Price for Truth
Trent paused as he looked around. "Listen, I really hope that this doesn't seem rude. I mean, you did kind of save my life, and I'm not trying to be ungrateful. That, and you agreed to tell me what's going on, WHY precisely that lunatic was trying to kill me. But...why here?"
Hajime looked up from his menu. "Hmmm? Oh, I just got a paycheck last week, so I felt that I should use it. And this is a bit of a celebration after all. And I've always heard that if possible, a person should eat at Bali-Bali's in Tokyo."
Trent sighed again as the elder Ryudo continued ordering. "And thus does my head REALLY start to hurt." He turned to the rest of the table. "Okay, I remember hearing at the assembly that you're name's Amaru Ryudo, so I can understand you. But why are you here?"
Yuzuriha coughed nervously. "Um...I'm kind of just here to find out what's going on. I recognized that guy who attacked you, and I figured I should know why he did it."
"Gotcha. And lastly, who are YOU?"
The last one smiled. It wasn't intentional, but doing so managed to make the ladies three tables away sigh wistfully, draw side-long glances from the two older women further back, and caused one of the waitresses to almost trip over herself. "Tsuzuku Ryudo, age nineteen. I'm the middle brother; I'm in college right now." He sipped at his water. "In case you haven't figured it out by now, this has to do not just with you and whoever Miss Nekoi is affiliated with, but the Ryudo family as well."
Trent shook his head. "Ryudo. You're family got lucky; not many people can boast to have a name that means 'Way of the Dragon.'"
Tsuzuku's pleasant smile returned. "Nor boast to being a part of one of the most respected Clans of all Scotland."
THAT took Trent aback. "You've heard of us?"
Tsuzuku sipped again. "Your clan began in 1386, when Maurice MacRath killed a member of the Fitzgerald clan in Ireland. He later fled to Scotland, and managed quite handily to save Lord Bisset of Lovat. As a direct result, the MacRae clan establishes its reputation for skills of protection, serving Bisset in Clunes. Later, John MacRae killed the lord's bastard son. While the lord didn't particularly mind, he still felt it his duty to punish John. Rather than having him executed, he banished John. He later resettled in Kintail, and began the MacRae's long period of service to the MacKenzie Clan, beginning under Lord Seaforth."
Trent stared for a good long time. He finally asked, "how do you know all that? What, you just happened to be studying British history in college or something?"
Tsuzuku just smiled as Trent descended into deeper thought. "I think you'd be surprised what I know, Trent."
"Nengmien?" Amaru broke in.
Trent started. "I'm sorry, what?"
Hajime looked up. "We're almost done ordering; cold noodles to finish the meal?"
Trent blinked, then shook his head. "Just rice. I've tried nengmien before, and the consistency and texture just didn't agree with me. Just...wrong, really." As Hajime signalled the end of their order, Trent leaned forward. "Alright, I realize that hospitality is very important to the Japanese. It is to the Scottish too. Still, I think I've been remarkably patient for someone who's just had someone make an attempt on their life. So would you mind explaining what the bleep is going on?"
Hajime exchanged a glance with Tsuzuku. Taking it as a hint, the younger Ryudo began. "Our story begins a VERY long time ago; almost exactly three thousand years ago, to be precise." He leaned back in his chair. "At the time, our ancestors were...well, let's just say, they weren't human."
"Ah, Christ."
Tsuzuku fixed him with a frank look. "This from a man who regularly watches the students at his school generating earthquakes, vaccuum air blades, and summoning giant animals made of chi-based fire?"
Trent winced. "Point taken. What exactly were your ancestors?"
Tsuzuku's face became quickly serious. "We are the descendants of the Go clan. They were dragons."
Trent took a look at the dead seriousness of the three brothers's faces, then compared it to the believing surprise on Yuzuriha's face. Looking at her, he frowned in thought. Ignoring it for the time, he turned back. "Go on."
Tsuzuku leaned forward, his chin resting on his folded hands. "Three thousand years ago, their was a coup, of a sort in heaven. You see, there was another clan; the Gyushu, or Bulls. We'd been in opposition for quite a long time, and it simply came to a head. That, and the emperor at the time decided that he didn't completely trust our ancestors. So a challenge was issued; I'm not completely clear on the details. All I know is that the Gyushu and the Go engaged in combat. If the Gyushu lost, they would be banished to the west while the Go descended to earth to safe-guard the eastern half of the world. If the Go lost, the entire clan would be destroyed."
Trent shook his head. "Short end of the stick, huh?"
Tsuzuku shrugged. "Perhaps. From what I DO know, the head of our family at the time only agreed to the challenge because the empress, a prescient, told him that a time would come in which the presence of the Go on earth would be necessary. Anyway, as my brothers and I obviously survived, the Gyushu lost, and were banished to the western hemisphere." Trent nodded. "Interesting story, but what does this have to do with me? For that matter, what does a fight between two divine clans over three thousand years ago have to do with me?"
Tsuzuku smiled. "When the Go descended to earth, they lost their immortality. They retained the divine draconic strengths, but they could die of old age and be killed. And understandably, they died. However, a few of them reincarnated."
Trent looked at him tiredly, leaning on one arm. "Let me guess; three of them?"
Hajime took over at that point. "If you're asking if my brothers and I are, then yes. Once every millenium, the children of the Go family return to the living world. I am The Blue Dragon, King of the East. Tsuzuku is the Red Dragon, King of the South. Amaru is the Black Dragon, King of the North." He turned to accept the trays of meat from their waitress. "But something strange has happened; the last king is missing; he wasn't born to our family."
"You mean a fourth king?" Trent asked
Hajime nodded his head. "The number rankings aren't based on our order of birth or age; they were true, but that's a secondary concern. The number of the king is actually based on their rank in the courts of the Emperor and of the Go family themselves. We've been looking for the White Dragon, King of the West for the past two years."
Trent idly snared some of the galbi, wrapping in lettuce with garlic. "So what does any of this have to do with me? Did some mad scientist find him and lock the information of where he is in my head or something?" Hajime continued to stare at him levelly. "Something a bit less out-of-the- ordinary, actually. The more predictable thing, in fact."
Trent paused. Bringing the lettuce roll to his mouth, he calmly ate it, swallowing before he faced them. "If you're going to tell me that someone decided it would be a great cosmic joke to reincarnate a three thousand year old 'white dragon king' in the body of an eighteen year old Scottish transfer student to Japan, then I sincerely hope that that you can come up with some REALLY impressive evidenceto back it up."
Amaru frowned in confusion. "Why on earth would we make something like that up?"
Trent shrugged. "Why does a galaxy spin the way it does? Just because I don't see the reason doesn't mean it's not there." He stood up to leave.
"You're not comfortable around other people," Tsuzuku remarked.
"Brilliant, Holmes."
Tsuzuku smiled faintly. "Yes, that IS something rather well known about you, isn't it? How about some things a little less well known?"
Trent turned at the door to look back. "I don't suppose that being a 'dragon king' would have anything to do with a pair of elves and goddesses of destruction, would it? No, I thought not."
Tsuzuku exchanged a somewhat puzzled look with Amaru, but chose not to address the odd question. "You like the wind, don't you? Your favorite weather in the world is when it gets somewhat cold; fall weather, with a bright sun, clouds in the sky, and a brisk, cold wind in the air. YOu've hiked up and down hills, for no purpose other than to stand on their tops and feel the wind rustling through your hair. You feel strange when you're alone in places like that; like you can hear voices, like all the sounds of the world are trying to tell you something you can't quite make out."
Trent hadn't left; he'd wanted to hear Tsuzuku's answer. "Okay, now that's just kind fo creepy."
Tsuzuku smiled. "Fungsahn was notorious for hating the intrigues of teh court; he chose to spend the vast majority of his time alone in the mountains of Tibet or on the Mongolian plains, where he could just listen to the sound of the air. Do you still believe that we're wrong?"
"Rather fervently," Trent replied. "I don't know HOW you know about my favorite kind of weather, but if I'm supposed to take that to mean that somehow I'm actually some kind of dragon, then your definition of 'convincing' is rather far from mine." He turned to walk out again.
"Not when you take into consideration some of those dreams of yours," Hajime called back. "Just about every person on the planet dreams about flying at some point. How many do you think dream about being gigantic lizards?"
Again, Trent paused at the door before turning back. "Okay, now I'm starting to get disturbed. Maybe you're stalkers. The problem with that though, is that I've never told anyone about those dreams. I haven't even talked to myself about them, so where could you have heard it? I don't write about my dreams either."
Hajime slipped his hand into a coat pocket, producing an odd-looking pen. It was obviously expensive; the metal-work had been done in what looked like platinum, the barrel of the pen itself carved out of seamless, flawless lapis-lazuli. Abruptly, it became burning white light, elongating into a four-foot length of slightly curved lapis-lazuli, marked all over with depictions of serpentine oriental dragons. Trent stared in open shock; he was used to seeing insane levels of martial arts. Shape-shifting weaponry was a bit farther away from his normal day. "Okay, that's new."
Hajime grasped one end, pulling it open to reveal the first three inches of a watered steel blade. He sheathed it almost immediately, returning it to its pen-shape before he spoke. "This is the Sword of the Blue Dragon King. It's the symbol of my power and rank as the Head of the Ryudo Clan, heir to the Blue Dragon King. It's also what awakened my powers roughly four years ago."
Tsuzuku pulled out a small notepad which began changing in a similar light show. It ended up being a large book, roughly ten by fourteen inches, probably four hundred pages long. The cover was tanned leather stained red, fixtures of gold set at each corner of the cover. The same images of dragons were set on it; along the spine mainly, though in the center of the cover had been set a strange design that looked as though four dragons had been bent into some kind of spiral. "This is my treasure; the Tome of the Red Dragon. Amarus's is the Staff. And we have the last treasure as well, the one that Fungsahn is meant to have."
Trent shook his head. "I still don't get it; what does this have to do with me?"
Hajime sighed. "The treasure is the key. Call it an artifact if you'd rather, but it remains our way of checking. If anyone other than the White Dragon, King of the West were to touch it, nothing would happen. If they tried to steal it, it would return to Amaru, as his duty is to guard our clan's treasures. But if the one who was reincarnated touches it, the sleeping dragon wakes up."
Trent shook his head. "If you're asking me to come and touch this whatever- it-is, forget it. I came here because I thought you could tell me why some highschool maniac was flinging wind razors at me, and I find out it's because the three of you think I MIGHT be some long-lost relative from another life. Why precisely should I feel grateful?"
Yuzuriha winced. "Please, don't blame Daisuke. He's not a bad person, he just takes his duties too seriously."
"And those duties include random murder?"
"His duty," Yuzuriha hastened to reassure, "is to protect Hinoto. I'm not saying he was right and that you're a threat, but he doesn't want to dare take any chances."
Trent rolled his eyes. "Great. Kill me on the off-chance I MIGHT become a problem later. And I'm supposed to like this guy, let alone tolerate him? I'm a nice guy, but I'm not THAT nice." He paused before leaving. "Look, this has been bugging me since this morning, but are you blind or something?"
Yuzuriha blinked in surprise. "Blind? No, I have perfectly good 20/20 vision. Why on Earth would you think I'm blind?"
Trent shrugged as he left, tossing back his answer. "It was the only reason I could think of for you getting to bring that weird-looking dog around everywhere."
Tsuzuku watched him leave, then turned to a by now VERY pale Yuzuriha. "Dog?" At her failure to answer, he waved a hand in front of her face. "Excuse me?"
She stared. "He can see him. Somone else can actually see him."
Amaru looked around. "See who?"
The unlikely shrine maiden started again. "Huh? Oh, it's nothing. Um...what's happening now?"
Tsuzuku turned to Hajime. "Still think it's him?" He smiled sheepishly at the arch look. "I'm sorry." Looking towards the door, he shook his head. "He hasn't changed a bit, not in three thousand years. Still the same sarcastic, sardonic old hermit he was when he first descended to earth."
Hajime nodded. "We can't force him to accept the Cloak. I wish we could, but he'd never forgive us if we did."
Amaru shuddered. "He was nearly killed today twice; do we dare let him go without making sure? YOU know what happens if someone actually succeeds in mortally wounding him."
Hajime stood up, their meal forgotten. "If someone succeeds, then God help us all. I can only imagine the devestation if we were lucky enough to get him to some wasteland when it happened; in downtown Tokyo?" He shuddered.
Yuzuriha heard them, but she didn't really notice.
--------
Kim flung an arm around Trent's shoulders during the break between classes. "Okay, spill. What's going on?"
Trent turned to regard his friend quizzically. He'd managed to convince himself that he really wasn't all that worried about all the stories he'd heard the night before, and now this. "Huh?"
Despite the difference of almost six inches in their heights, Kim managed to drag down the taller Trent's head to knoogie him. "Come on! You must have done SOMETHING! I mean, I have to take my hat off to you; here I thought you'd never get off your rear and enjoy life, and then you go and score something like this?"
Trent stared at him tiredly. Talking like that; really, what other interpretation could there have been? "What the hell are you babbling about?"
"Nekoi, you twit! She's been staring at you for the past hour!"
Trent's stare turned from exhaustion to incredulity. "What? Why would she stare at me?" He swiveled to look back at the sophomore, gaping as she started, turning back to her book hastily. He felt his jaw drop. She WAS staring at him. "What the hell?"
Kim rolled his eyes at the eloquent reply. "You know, I'd always known that you weren't gay. But you manage to get a girl like that on the first day she arrives? Man. They're right; you DO have to watch out for the quiet ones."
Trent snuck another glance at Yuzuriha. Same thing; she hastily started reading the same page again. He shook his head as he turned back. "Okay, I'm confused. I've spoken to her twice. We were in large groups at both times. I didn't say so much as a single word more than what I would have used if I bumped into a complete stranger. So why me?"
--------
Falaris threw his hands up at the knowing looks. "Don't look at me; I don't mess with romantic sub-plots."
Elle shook her head. "It's a crossover of Sohryuden and X/1999. Both of them are Shoujo series; both revolve around 'pretty boys.' Of COURSE there are going to be abrupt romantic sub-plots. The universe itself is trying to twist our unlikely hero into the role of a Casanova; he doesn't NEED divine intervention in a place like that. In Null, maybe, but not in Tokyo."
--------
"Do you mind if I talk to you for a moment?"
Yuzuriha started, blushing furiously as she recognized the voice as Trent's. "Huh?"
Trent sighed, massaging his temples with one hand. "Do you mind if I sit down? I needed to ask you something."
Yuzuriha managed to get her blushes under control. "Sure. Um..."
Trent muttered under his breath about 'blasted chairs not built for six foot males' as he sat down, but ended up speaking first. "Listen, I'm sorry if I shook you up last night, but what's the deal? I mean, why DOES that dog follow you around?"
Yuzuriha stared at him. "You can actually see him? You can see Inuki?"
Trent nodded slowly. "Yeaaah, if Inuki is that kind of misty-gray, wolf- looking dog that follows you around." Yuzuriha smiled faintly. "I didn't think anyone else could."
Sweat-drop. "Okay, I'm once again confused. Why can't anyone else see him?"
Yuzuriha smiled at Trent, scaring the crap out of him. THAT look was just bound to be trouble later on. "Did you know that I'm actually a priestess?"
Trent blinked. Oh, that was it. She'd been thinking of duties or something. Should have known better, really. "No, I hadn't heard. That, and you don't exactly dress like a priestess."
The sophomore giggled. "No, I haven't really had any reason to at any time. My family is the guardian of the Mitsumune Shrine."
"I don't follow."
"Oh, it's not too important. The thing is, all of the priests and priestesses there who've descended from my family have a dog spirit of some kind; Inuki is mine."
Trent nodded slowly, then scooted about two feet to the side. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.
Yuzuriha sweat-dropped at the sight of him beating his head against the table. "Are you okay?"
He looked up tiredly. "No, I'm not okay. I did SOMETHING in a past life that apparently made God take enough notice of me to make the effort to personally complicate my life. How would you feel if God himself decided to taunt you?" He paused again as thunder rumbled in the background. As there weren't any clouds in the sky, not even any fog, this was a bit out of the ordinary.
Yuzuriha frowned as she bent to look into his face. "Um...listen, it's not really important about Inuki, it's just that no one else has ever seen him before." She sighed wistfully. "When I was in elementary school, I used to try and tell everyone about Inuki and how much fun we had together, but they always said I was a liar. Grandmother always said that only I could see Inuki because I was a special person, but that someday I'd meet other people who could see him too." Her smile turned back to perky. "So anyway, what are you doing after school? Are you going to take up the Ryudo's on their offer?"
Trent managed to return to reality, turning vacantly to look at her. "I'm sorry, what?"
Yuzuriha giggled at him. "I asked if you're doing anything after school today."
Trent stared at her. "Miss Nekoi, did you just ask me out on a date?"
She pinked attractively, answering his question quite well. Groaning he drew his head back.
She shot her hand out in front of him as his head started to descend. "Um, you really probably shouldn't do that. It can't be good for you."
Trent sighed. "You know, this is kind of depressing. For the first time in my life, a girl has expressed an interest in me. And all I can do is wonder when the other shoe is going to drop. Says a lot about me, doesn't it?"
"You son of a bitch."
THAT proved enough to shock Trent out of (or at least part of the way out of) his depression. "Huh?"
"How dare you, you...you...you..."
Trent turned to the choked, stuttering (and just in case I've failed to make it clear, MALE) voice. "Uh...do I know you? You seem kind of familiar."
The scarred, bristly-haired figure was shaking in apparent anger. "Kojiro. Kojiro Mifune, Casanova."
Trent could feel the back of his head start bawling in frustration at the sound of the senior's anger. "Oh yeah, Captain of the Muay Thai club. So why Casanova?"
He jerked to the side as Kojiro's fist impacted the table. "HOW DARE YOU TRY AND SCORE SOMEONE LIKE HER, YOU BASTARD! CUTE JAPANESE GIRLS ARE OFF LIMITS, GET ME?!"
Trent blink-blinked at him. He was actually kind of torn as to whether he should be cringing in fear or laughing hysterically at the kickboxer's overdone attempts at making himself seem like some kind of righteous gangster. "When did this come into effect?"
"IT CAME INTO - " "Excuse me, Mr. Mifune? Can you see him?"
Kojiro spun to face her, his expression abruptly shifting to almost indulgent concern. "Of course I see him, the dastardly cad."
Yuzuriha managed to bite back the laugh. Dastardly cad? Who TALKED like that? "I don't mean Trent, I mean him," she said, pointing to her side.
Kojiro looked at the empty spot. "Huh?"
Yuzuriha picked up her tray and turned to leave, smiling at Trent. "Sorry, but I make it a policy never to date boys who can't see him." She paused as she was about to leave. "Oh Trent? I'll talk to you after school."
The scotsman stared as she walked away.
By this point, Kojiro actually WAS frothing. "You...poor girl...dare...fragile mind...corrupt..."
Trent looked back at him. "I'm sorry, are you saying that I've corrupted her mind or something?"
"DIEEEEEEEEEEE!"
Trent yelled in shock as he managed to scramble back out of his seat, avoiding the wild swing by a good foot. Further dodges would have been nice, but as his shoulder still felt like someone had pulled red-hot needles out of it, dodging was kind of impossible. He yelped in shock as a vaccuum blade exploded in front of him, conveniently managing to keep Kojiro seperated from him.
The kickboxer spun, but felt his desire to mangle the interloper die as it proved to be Ryoko. "Errr..."
She smiled darkly. "Attacking someone arbitrarily like that...have you no dignity? No pride as a warrior?"
Kojiro glared at her. "Shut up! This friggin' pervert's trying to turn poor little Nekoi into his love slave!"
Trent stared at him. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, where the hell do you get THAT from? I don't even try and TALK to girls; you think that I'm going to just up and try something THAT idiotic?"
Ryoko stared at them both. She'd fought Kojiro before; usually when he'd decided that the dojo area next to the Kendo Club's rooms should be open for them too. Composing herself, she pointed her bokken at him. "If you have a grievance, settle it like a man. Not like some thug (or a certain red mountain ape), but as a warrior, as a martial artist."
Kojiro glared at her, then abruptly grinned. Check, that he GRINNED. "TRENT MACRAE! I CHALLENGE YOU TO A K-FIGHT! TODAY, AFTER SCHOOL, IN THE MAIN ARENA! TO DECIDE WHICH OF US HAS THE RIGHT TO DATE YUZURIHA NEKOI!"
Trent stared at him. "Are you stoned or something? What do you think this is, the stone age? 'Beat her over the head and drag her back to your cave?' That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."
"AND YOU'VE HEARD IT RIGHT HERE FOLKS! A FOBIDDEN GRUDGE MATCH, THE PRIZE THE LOVELY NEW STUDENT, MISS YUZURIHA NEKOI!"
Trent turned to stare as...actually, he never did remember her name. He always just thought of her as 'that annoying chick in the media club' who served as the announcer for the K-fights. "You've GOT to be kidding me. God would not be so cruel." He moaned to himself as she managed to shoot into his face.
"Mr. MacRae, in the past year here at Daimon high, the only recorded K- fight you participated in was the recent near-upset against our very own Ryoko Mitsurugi. Now, you've been chosen to go up against Kojiro Mifune, one of our more dangerous fighters. What are your...uh, Trent? Do you mind?"
He paused in thumping his head against the table long enough to deadpan, "quite a bit, actually." Then turned back to trying to kill his brain- cells.
--------
"You have GOT to be...no, you're not, are you. You wouldn't joke about something this insane," Kim remarked.
Trent sighed as he finished his preparations for the match. He didn't wear a kendoist's traditional hakama and armor; against most of the fighters here, armor just slowed you down without actually protecting anything. As such, he'd chosen to just fight in loose pants and a t-shirt. Though why he'd chosen solid black was something that kept niggling at the back of his head, as though he should have remembered something but didn't. "I've never really bothered trying to socialize; I have three sisters, and between them and their friends, I'd long ago come to the conclusion that females equate trouble." He finished checking the leather wrapping he'd done to his wooden sword, checking the balance idly. "Nothing sexist, it's just that guys and women think differently, and I can't for the life of me figure them out. It would seem that I'm becoming vindicated."
Kim grimaced slightly as he watched Trent try to warm up. "You know, I've seen you fight against Ryoko in the gym. Even if yesterday's fight was a fluke, I think you're better than most people think. So in a completely fair fight, you'd probably stand a decent chance of winning against Kojiro. What chances do you think you have with that shoulder?"
Trent sighed. "Honestly? Not much; claymore-fighting is as much based on power as it is sword skill. It takes a lot more strength to move a long, heavy sword like this than it does a katana. Sure, the wooden sword's weight isn't that much an issue, but it's still not going to be a fair fight."
Kim shook his head. "If he weren't already brain-damaged, I'd have almost thought Kojiro was taking that into account."
Trent looked up as his name was called in the announcements. "You notice how he called for this match to be as public as possible? What he DID take into account was humiliating me." He chuckled weakly. "Unfortunately for him, I have almost no shame. Certainly not enough to feel bad about losing to him with a fairly serious injury still healing." With that, he jogged out into the ring.
--------
Yuzuriha stared as Trent entered. "What? He's actually going to fight with that injury?"
Daisaku shrugged from the table as he lowered his camera. "Kind of flattering, isn't it?"
Yuzuriha turned to him in confusion. "What do you mean?"
Daisaku turned back in surprise. "You don't know? Oh, that's right, you only arrived yesterday; no way you'd know everything about the K-fight system." He snapped a quick shot of Kojiro striking a pose before continuing. "If Trent refused to fight, then by the terms of the K-fight system, he would have already lost. In other words, Trent is up there to defend your honor and right to date who you want. From what I've heard about him, I doubt that he even realizes he's doing that, but it's still kind of romantic, isn't it?"
Yuzuriha blushed faintly. "Yes, it is," she mumbled. In her mind, she could already see the sakura petals as her brave samurai...well, highlander anyway destroyed his opponent, leaping from the ring to sweep her off her feet and proclaim his devotion...
Then reality returned, and she sighed in disappointment. Nice fantasy; she meets a guy who can finally see Inuki and they fall instantly in love with each other, because their vision makes them destined. Unfortunately, the guy seemed to be more confused and bewildered about her (she'd admit it) crush on him.
Because it really could just be a crush; maybe she was fixated on him just because he met one small criteria she had felt necessary. He might not be her type after all; maybe they'd just be random acquaintances.
Reality didn't last long. It was anime, after all. And thus did the people start to stare at the strange if cute exchange student with the shining eyes and sakura petals drifting around her.
In heaven, Falaris smiled sheepishly. "Okay, THAT time I intervened."
--------
Kojiro smirked as Trent entered the ring. "So, you had the guts to actually face me?" He chuckled, then burst into full-blown evil laughter. "Such a shame that your presence here serves no purpose other than to bring my manliness into the eyes of the masses! GAAAAHAHAHAHAH!"
In the audience, Azumi whistled appreciatively. "Not bad for an amateur; he shows promise."
Further talk ended as 'announcer girl' called for the fight to begin.
Again, Trent chose to focus primarily on defense. Bringing his claymore between him and Kojiro, he jumped backwards to dodge the flurry of vicious punches, ducking and pivoting as Kojiro scythed a vicious spinning hook kick at him. Taking advantage of his position, Trent swiped his claymore out as hard as he could at Kojiro's knee. Not as hard as he would have liked; he was still only able to use his left hand to keep the sword balanced, but it was still enough to knock the leg out from under the kick- boxer.
Kojiro managed to roll clumsily with the fall. It didn't do much for his image, but it did serve the purpose of reducing the injury. He was back on his feet in a second, this time focusing more on punching his foe into submission as opposed to kicking; like all kick boxers, he had balance problems, but he had the neurons to recognize it.
For his part, Trent remained on the defensive the whole time. He saw an opening every once in a while, but with his left arm out of commission, he knew that he'd only leave himself open to attack if he tried anything.
Abruptly, what had been a pistoning shot towards Trent's head turned into a swipe. Trent blocked with his sword, but it proved to be the worst move he could have made. Grabbing the sword, Kojiro yanked it around enough to keep Trent from using it, and punched him in the left shoulder. Hard.
Trent bellowed in pain as the nerves exploded in pain. It wasn't enough to dislocate it again, but it hurt like HELL. Stumbling back, Trent felt a black haze start to move across his eyes, and worried for an instant that he might be blacking out.
Then reflex took over as his sword lanced forward, faster than he'd ever struck before, sending a brief vaccuum attack into Kojiro's thorat. Enough to slow him down, but not much else. Still, it managed to shock the kick- boxer into brief caution.
Trent wasn't feeling terribly cautious. Now he was pissed. The strange part was that he didn't feel for even a second like yelling and charging and trying to beat his opponent into a state of severe pain. His mind was actually working more sharply now, more clinical. Staring coldy at his opponent, he switched his claymore to the left hand. Ignoring the pain, he began to swing it through slow, lazy figure eight motions. A small part of him wondered why the pain wasn't there, but he didn't really bother to think about it too much. His arm was good enough to fight again; it wouldn't take long now. "That hurt, you know. And I didn't think you would have considered striking weak spots to be sporting."
Kojiro smirked. "Hey, whatever works. Like I should care about the little skirt-wearer's morals."
Trent smiled, shocking Kojiro slightly. He wouldn't admit it, not even to himself, but the sight of that glacial smile scared him. Psyching himself up, he retook his stance, dancing on the balls of his feet. Trent just switched his claymore back to his right hand, letting the tip rest casually on the ground at his right.
Again, it was Kojiro who began the attack. This time though, Trent didn't even bother trying to counter. He just wasn't there; every punch was easily dodged. In frustration, Kojiro went for the Haymaker approach, slashing a round kick at him. In that instant, Trent ducked and simultaneously brought his claymore, slamming it violently into the base of his leg.
Kojiro screamed in pain as he collapsed to the ground, a roar of vicarious pain rising from every male throat in the crowd. Trent smiled darkly. "Two inches, Kojiro. That's all that kept the remnants of your bloodline alive."
Still gasping and cursing in pain, Kojiro stared at the scotsman. "What the fuck is wrong with you?! You don't hit a guy there!"
Trent smiled mockingly. "I'm sorry, but this little skirt-wearer's morals are rather simply defined. Let your enemy set the rules, then kill them under them. You want to go for the weak spots? Let's see who has the most." He returned to his stance, waiting.
Kojiro fumbled to his feet. He couldn't take a stance again; a single ounce of weight on his right leg would be enough to make him collapse. Limping forward, he tried swinging at Trent again.
It was the last move he took in the fight. In a lightning motion, Trent's claymore struck twice; once under each arm where it joined the torso. He didn't want to dislocate or break anything, but he fully intended to make sure Kojiro couldn't move any of his limbs. It was simple, really. His advantage was speed. It wasn't enough to win on its own. So all he had to do was slow his opponent down enough for a kill strike. Simple, really.
He finished off by sweeping Kojiro's left leg out from under him. As the kickboxer fell, his sword came up and around, and snapped forward in a savage thrust to the neck.
Kojiro stared in shock at Trent. The stab had been perfect; it had barely touched him. Just the wind of its passage though was giving him a rugburn. He wondered briefly what would have happened if Trent had decided not to miss. And thus it came to be that the mats had to be dry-cleaned of certain bodily fluids.
Trent leaned down to stare at his now-terrified opponent. "'And when I had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, 'come and see.' And I looked, and I beheld a pale horse, and him who sat on it was named Death, and Hell followed in his wake. And Power was given unto him; power to kill with sword, and with death, and with fire, and with the beasts of the earth.'" He rose up. "Don't ever try this again."
He turned to leave the ring, and while he ignored the stunned silence followed by the cheers as he walked out, that did not mean he didn't notice them.
--------
"That was unexpected."
Trent turned to the new face. "Amaru, right?" At the nod, he turned back to look into the sky. "Something on your mind? If it has to do with whatever I'm supposed to touch, please don't bother."
Amaru sighed, easing himself down to sit next to Trent. "I'd considered it. Actually, I'm here about that arm of yours."
Trent turned back, raising his left arm carefully. He still couldn't figure out why he'd been able to move like that with this level of pain, and he was starting to get scared. The dreams alone were bad enough, the last thing he needed was it turning out to be memories of a previous life. what passed for normality at Daimon High was bad enough. "What about it?"
Amaru's smile was a bit sheepish, if sympathetic. "I wasn't really paying much attention to your fight with Ryoko yesterday. I kind of didn't see any reason."
"Why would you?" Trent asked understandingly. "I was some random fool getting his stuffings beaten in. Just one more drop in the bucket here at Daimon."
Amaru shook his head at the perfect acceptance of being ignored. "Anyway, I wanted to show you something." He slipped the watch off his wrist; nickel-plated steel for the actual clock portion itself, the band made of some kind of glossy black metal. One light show later, and it had extended into a five and a half foot long staff. The haft was some kind of black material; it could have been wood, but something told Trent he was staring at a five-foot shaft of carved onyx. It looked strange; the length had been treated to resemble wood grain slightly, with wavy lines of charcoal gray showing faintly along its length. The head was in the style of a buddhist monk's staff; capped by a ring of metal divided in two, three more smaller rings of metal hanging from each half. Fairly ordinary, if you ignored the fact that the larger ring was made of two dragons meeting their heads at the top, the rings also made of smaller coiling dragons.
Trent stared at it. "Okay, I remember Tsuzuku mentioning that your treasure was the staff. Now what?"
Amaru just laid the head of the staff against Trent's shoulder, ignoring the strangled yell as its powers activated. "A dislocated shoulder can be pretty painful from what I understand. Thought that should help."
Trent stared at his arm. Raising it carefully, he swung it around in a few experimental circles. "Healed. Like it never happened." He shook his head. "If you charged for that, you could make a killing here."
Amaru grinned. "No, I wouldn't feel right about it." He stood to go. "Like I said, I'd mainly come here to try and convince you otherwise, but if you don't want to hear it, I better go."
Trent looked up. "I'm not going to, but would you mind answering a question?"Amaru stood up, changing the staff back to his watch. "If I can, sure."
Trent nodded. "Fair enough. Back in the restaurant, Hajime's sword came from a pen that looked pretty modern. Tsuzuku's book started out as a notepad, and your staff is apparently a watch. If those things are three thousand years old, how..."
Amaru chuckled. "We got them as a sword, book, and staff. Each new king chooses the alternate form."
Trent shook his head as Amaru walked off. "Now what?"
--------
Kamui gasped in pain as he fell to the pavement. I'm going to kill them both. She had no business... He winced as his landing managed to aggravate the hole in his side.
"What the hell?"
Kamui looked up as a tall, white-haired man...no, teenager (he DID pause to wonder what kind of eighteen-year-old would have silver-white hair) ran over.
Trent stared in shock. "Hey, you're the new kid, right? Kamui? Geez, what happened to you? You look like you lost a fight with a combine or something."
"Don't touch me!"
Trent ignored the ineffectual shove. "Yeah, yeah, you're strong enough on your own." Sighing, he bent down to support the smaller boy. He paused as he got his first good look at the wounds. "What DID happen to you? Those cuts look like they were surgical or something; what could have cut you that fine..." He paused. "Uh, I don't suppose you know a tall, blonde highschool student flinging around blades of air, do you?" He sighed as Kamui abruptly tried struggling again. "I'll take that as a yes."
Kamui tried shoving his carrier back, struggling to charge enough power to psionically zap him. "That FRIEND of yours - "
"He's NOT my friend," Trent gritted out. "The only reason I only know him in the first place is because he tried to murder me last night." His comments proved enough to calm Kamui, as he relaxed somewhat. Enough to lose consciousness like a normal human being.
Nothing happened as Trent worked to drag Kamui's body to the nearest doctor. Which, predictably enough (if you've read the manga) took him past the Togakushi shrine. Where Kotori Monou was conveniently (almost suspiciously so) waiting.
She stared in shock at the now profusely-bleeding Kamui. "Oh my god, what happened to him?" (1)
Trent sighed. "I'll let him tell you." "Look, I need to get him to the nearest doctor - "
"Kamui..."
Trent turned his head at the quiet, shocked voice. "Uh...he's pretty messed up. I found him on my way home."
The larger Fuma ran over quickly to grab the younger Kamui. "Kotori, call the doctor immediately. Tell him that someone was..." he turned to Trent.
Trent sighed. "He's suffering some pretty bad cut wounds, mainly to the side of his torso."
Fuma nodded. "Tell him that. He'll probably need stitches."
As Kotori ran off, Trent turned to Fuma. "You know him?"
Fuma nodded slowly. "We were friends a long time ago, before he moved away. We...we've been meaning to talk."
"What's this?"
Trent turned. "Hello Mr. Monou. Seems a friend of your son had a bit of an accident."
Kyougo frowned in concern. "What..." his eyes widened in shock. "Kamui..."
--------
Trent sighed as he walked out the door. The doctor had come and gone; the cuts were far shallower than he'd expected, and would apparently heal without any major scarring problems. Still, the doctor was baffled as to who had done the damage; what could have made cuts cleaner than those from a brand-new surgical scalpel?
He paused as he looked up. He wasn't Japanese, just in the country. Fortunately, that proved enough for him to sweatdrop as he came out. As the front gate itself was blocked off, he took a deep breath, turned, and started walking in the general direction of the shrine itself. "Now that's just silly. I didn't see a man in a business suit and overcoat use a set of iron claws (2) to batter aside lightning bolts from some guy who looks like he shops at the same store as Alvin from the Chipmunks. My head's playing tricks on me." Now if he could just start believing it...
"You...did you do this to Kamui?"
Trent screeched to a halt at the voice. He recognized it as Fuma's, but the tone was a bit off. As in, 'on the verge of entering an emotionless killing spree,' something he didn't usually equate with the nonchalant and expressionless Senior. Well, the killing part at least; he had a hard time picturing Fuma as anything other than emotionless. He continued watching as the teenager in the backwards baseball cap and "A" shirt did...something to a cube-shaped forcefield, somehow turning what HAD been a war-zone back to pristine. "Okay, THAT I'll admit is pretty impressive."
Taking a last look around, he noticed that the suit was heading away, Fuma was talking to the teenager, and no one was even bothering to LOOK his direction. Maybe he'd get a chance to actually get away before anything ELSE strange happened.
He kind of doubted it.
--------
Kyougo slowly rose from his crouch. Facing the altar solemnly, he removed his treasure and his bane, that grim trophy of his marriage that he'd kept safe for almost ten years now. Picking up the long, slender bundle, he faced it sadly. "Its finally time. Kamui has returned, and with his return we now face the end. I only pray that he is strong enough, that he is worthy of you now." With that, he removed the wrappings. Sacred cloth woven to protect from the sight of any and all, from dreamseers to dunces, fell away to reveal an awesome sight.
It had always struck Kyougo as somewhat strange that the weapon of the final battle, destined to be fought and decided in Tokyo, should be a thoroughly European sword. The four foot long claymore glistened faintly as he held it aloft, holy light shimmering down its length. Stepping to the lintels of his door, he held it aloft, letting the soft blaze of energies woven by heaven and earth shimmer in the moonlight.
A rustle of cloth was his only herald. He spun, the sword in hand as a figure began to appear in the candlelight of the altar. "Who's there?!" The intruder stepped out of the shadows. He appeared to be a young man in his early twenties; pale-skinned, white-haired, clad in dark gray, he seemed to almost be a living statue. The only concession to color was the strange mark on his forehead, almost that of a lotus as seen from the side. "I have come for the sword."
Kyougo frowned. "This sword is not mine to wield, but it is mine to give. And I have yet to see who is worthy to wield it. Depart in peace, and no harm will come to you."
Nataku began to let the long strip of white cloth he wore as a scarf slither to the ground. "I cannot depart."
Kyougo's eyes narrowed. "So be it. I paid a very dear price for this sword, and you will not have it."
Outside, Trent was currently facing a bit of an internal dilemna. On the one hand, he could feel that strange tickle along the length of his spine that had prompted him to see what had been going on with that weird fight and forcefield. On the other hand, if that meant what he thought it did (ANOTHER strange and most likely mind-boggling fight that would get him nearly killed), he REALLy didn't want to go within a hundred yards of the battle zone.
Groaning (and rather fervently wishing he could be apathetic enough to do the logical thing and save his own skin), he turned towards the source of the disturbance.
The shrine, it's insides currently flickering with strange lights.
Kyougo frowned in concern at his opponent. His prayers had been unleashing electricity of a power that you generally needed something along the lines of the Grand Coulee Dam to generate, and this strange, emotionless man was just deflecting them with nothing more than that strip of cloth. "I am not this sword's master, but to think that you could deflect its sacred lightning." His eyes widened in shock. "Could you be..."
Nataku ignored the next desperate blast, slipping past it as he shot towards the shrine master, his hand braced for a killing stroke.
For a long time, Trent was never completely sure what prompted him. All he did remember for sure was that he'd flung himself towards the shrine keeper, tackling him to the side just as Nataku struck. So rather than Kyougo having someone's hand rammed through his rib-cage, Trent ended up getting a nice, painful cut that completely bisected one of his kidneys.
Nataku paused to regard the man for a moment, then leaped upwards as another lightning attack streaked for him. He wasn't sure why, but the white-haired teen seemed...dangerous, to him.
Then he staggered to the side as a new blast ripped past him, the slip- stream alone unleashing enough raw force to severely bruise his ribs; it would have taken little more to crack them.
Hajime raised the sword for a second blow, but did not strike. He didn't want to kill the man, just drive him off. He sighed in relief as Nataku left; the man had the sense to realize that between the two of them, he was out-matched. "This world is changing far too quickly; too much occurs in too little time." He turned to regard Trent, his eyes widening in horror as he noticed the gaping wound. "What..."
Trent gasped in shock and pain. For the first twenty or so seconds, he'd been in shock, or so he assumed; he hadn't felt much. Apparently, the adrenaline had worn off, and he kind of wished it hadn't.
Hajime's sword snapped from its sheath as he bellowed to his brother. "AMARU! THE STAFF!"
Amaru stared in shock as Hajime unleashed a massive surge of raw energy from the sword. "What are you doing?! You're going to kill him!"
Hajime grunted under the strain. "That's what I'm trying to fight! I can't hold it back much longer; he was already dying !"
This time, it wasn't the sight of Hajime attacking Trent that made Amaru pale. Abruptly accelerating, he was next to Trent in moments, staff in hand. He desperately poured healing energies into the Scotman's body, knitting flesh and bone with a speed that made it seem that the wound simply ceased to exist.
Fumbling, Trent scrambled away from the two of them. A part of him marveled at the new health, but he had been JUST conscious enough to recognize what had been going on. He stared at Hajime wildly. "What the hell is going on?" he asked raggedly. "You saved me from Daisuke, you drove that guy off, and then you try and kill me?"
Hajime leaned against his sword as he crouched on the ground, panting heavily. "No, I was trying to suppress your powers long enough for Amaru to finish healing you. I'm sorry if that startled you, but I had no other choice."
Trent forced himself to his feet. Amaru had done a good job with him physically, but emotionally he was still pretty ragged. Two near-death experiences seconds apart can do that to you. "Alright, why suppress my 'powers?' Amaru healed my shoulder just fine without you trying that."
Amaru winced. "Trent...there's something we didn't tell you last night."
He rolled his eyes. "Great. Let me guess; this is going to be somewhat important?"
Amaru nodded carefully. "What we said about using the artifact to check for your powers? There's...a second way to do it. If you ARE the fourth king, then they'll automatically activate if you suffer a wound that should kill you."
Trent stared at him. "So if Daisuke had succeeded, then you would have known beyond a shadow of a doubt if it was me or not? So why not just let him kill me that time?"
Hajime stood up slowly; he recovered fast. "Two reasons. First of all, if you aren't Him then I don't want to have being an accessory to murder on my conscious. The other is that...gaining your powers that way isn't safe. For you, or for the greater portion of Japan."
Trent groaned. He really didn't need this emotional rollercoaster. "Just give me the bottom line, okay?"
Hajime took a deep breath. "Killing you wouldn't just trigger your powers; it's also one of the triggers for changing into a dragon. You'd become a nigh-unstoppable incarnation of death the size of a World War II aircraft carrier capable of levelling every man-made structure on the planet in hours. Of course, your immediate area wouldn't suffer much, as the energy back-lash of transforming equals that of a small tactical nuclear warhead, so there wouldn't BE anything to harm. Everything within a half kilometer would already be dead or dying, not including the area of effect just from the sound, light, and blast wave."
Trent stared at him in dull shock. "You're saying THAT is what your artifact does?"
Amaru shook his head. "The exact opposite, actually. The artifacts weren't just formed because of their extra benefits. The creators didn't even know that would happen at first, it just kind of did. They were really made so that the kings could gain their powers without reducing their kingdom to ash. It's the SAFE way to test for your powers."
Trent shook his head. "If the other option's like you said, why didn't you mention that?"
"Because you wouldn't have chosen then," Hajime said. "You would have done exactly what we wanted. You had to CHOOSE to try and become the dragon king."
"If that's the case, why tell me now?"
"Because you asked," was Amaru's reply.
Trent stared at the two of them for several minutes. No talking, no questions, just staring. He didn't think they were right; he was crazed, abnormal, and flat-out weird, but that didn't mean the reason was that he had the blood of dragons in his veins. That wasn't the point, however. The point was simply a question; was he willing to risk those consequences (assuming they were true)?
Logically, they probably weren't real. The concept of an animal that large was ludicrous; how could it survive? Just supporting its own weight would be impossible. And transforming someone his size into that much mass? Again, unlikely. And that 'nuclear bomb' backlash? Sounded awfully convenient.
Was he willing to risk that it was all a hoax? Tokyo had a population of around twenty million people; even if that kind of destruction occured only within a half-kilometer radius, hundreds of thousands would likely die just from that kind of a blast. Then of course there would be those left to try and live through the loss of power, gas, food, safe water, medical attention...the loss of life would likely double.
Not much of a choice, really.
"Two days," Trent said finally. "Give me two days to try and sort this out. Then, I'll go and we can find out once and for all if you three are right, or if you're just deluded."
Hajime nodded. "The dragons of heaven already know about us; that's why Daisuke tried to test you on his own. They're keeping the Cloak safe for now; in two days, we'll find them." He turned to Yuzuriha (she'd shown up to see who had put up the spirit barrier). "Provided of course that we ARE invited?"
Yuzuriha just grinned uncertainly. "Sure you are." She turned back to Kamui. "You should come there too; you need to know about this."
Kamui glared at the assembled people, but that was about all it was. He knew what he would do, just as well as they did. "I'll go."
To be continued...
Trent vs. Nataku in the Togakushi shrine, Amaru's save
Author's notes: Whew! Quite an update, huh? I'm probably not going to write as many chapters in this story, but they're going to be a fair bit longer than my usual ones. Anyway, this isn't really an X/1999 fic, it's a Sohryuden one. Unfortunately, that's not a sub-category on the site, so I'm calling it an X one anyway. By about chapter five, I'll be switching storylines a bit anyway. Till then, enjoy my changes. Also, I may not get another update for a while; I'm still kind of working on the storyline. If you have any suggestions, I'm open to them. Doesn't mean I'll use them, but if they fit what I want, maybe I will.
(1) - Kind of corny, I realize, but I'm not very good at writing about screechy damsels in distress...well, at least not their dialogue. Why do you think Book Two was about Slayers?
Trent paused as he looked around. "Listen, I really hope that this doesn't seem rude. I mean, you did kind of save my life, and I'm not trying to be ungrateful. That, and you agreed to tell me what's going on, WHY precisely that lunatic was trying to kill me. But...why here?"
Hajime looked up from his menu. "Hmmm? Oh, I just got a paycheck last week, so I felt that I should use it. And this is a bit of a celebration after all. And I've always heard that if possible, a person should eat at Bali-Bali's in Tokyo."
Trent sighed again as the elder Ryudo continued ordering. "And thus does my head REALLY start to hurt." He turned to the rest of the table. "Okay, I remember hearing at the assembly that you're name's Amaru Ryudo, so I can understand you. But why are you here?"
Yuzuriha coughed nervously. "Um...I'm kind of just here to find out what's going on. I recognized that guy who attacked you, and I figured I should know why he did it."
"Gotcha. And lastly, who are YOU?"
The last one smiled. It wasn't intentional, but doing so managed to make the ladies three tables away sigh wistfully, draw side-long glances from the two older women further back, and caused one of the waitresses to almost trip over herself. "Tsuzuku Ryudo, age nineteen. I'm the middle brother; I'm in college right now." He sipped at his water. "In case you haven't figured it out by now, this has to do not just with you and whoever Miss Nekoi is affiliated with, but the Ryudo family as well."
Trent shook his head. "Ryudo. You're family got lucky; not many people can boast to have a name that means 'Way of the Dragon.'"
Tsuzuku's pleasant smile returned. "Nor boast to being a part of one of the most respected Clans of all Scotland."
THAT took Trent aback. "You've heard of us?"
Tsuzuku sipped again. "Your clan began in 1386, when Maurice MacRath killed a member of the Fitzgerald clan in Ireland. He later fled to Scotland, and managed quite handily to save Lord Bisset of Lovat. As a direct result, the MacRae clan establishes its reputation for skills of protection, serving Bisset in Clunes. Later, John MacRae killed the lord's bastard son. While the lord didn't particularly mind, he still felt it his duty to punish John. Rather than having him executed, he banished John. He later resettled in Kintail, and began the MacRae's long period of service to the MacKenzie Clan, beginning under Lord Seaforth."
Trent stared for a good long time. He finally asked, "how do you know all that? What, you just happened to be studying British history in college or something?"
Tsuzuku just smiled as Trent descended into deeper thought. "I think you'd be surprised what I know, Trent."
"Nengmien?" Amaru broke in.
Trent started. "I'm sorry, what?"
Hajime looked up. "We're almost done ordering; cold noodles to finish the meal?"
Trent blinked, then shook his head. "Just rice. I've tried nengmien before, and the consistency and texture just didn't agree with me. Just...wrong, really." As Hajime signalled the end of their order, Trent leaned forward. "Alright, I realize that hospitality is very important to the Japanese. It is to the Scottish too. Still, I think I've been remarkably patient for someone who's just had someone make an attempt on their life. So would you mind explaining what the bleep is going on?"
Hajime exchanged a glance with Tsuzuku. Taking it as a hint, the younger Ryudo began. "Our story begins a VERY long time ago; almost exactly three thousand years ago, to be precise." He leaned back in his chair. "At the time, our ancestors were...well, let's just say, they weren't human."
"Ah, Christ."
Tsuzuku fixed him with a frank look. "This from a man who regularly watches the students at his school generating earthquakes, vaccuum air blades, and summoning giant animals made of chi-based fire?"
Trent winced. "Point taken. What exactly were your ancestors?"
Tsuzuku's face became quickly serious. "We are the descendants of the Go clan. They were dragons."
Trent took a look at the dead seriousness of the three brothers's faces, then compared it to the believing surprise on Yuzuriha's face. Looking at her, he frowned in thought. Ignoring it for the time, he turned back. "Go on."
Tsuzuku leaned forward, his chin resting on his folded hands. "Three thousand years ago, their was a coup, of a sort in heaven. You see, there was another clan; the Gyushu, or Bulls. We'd been in opposition for quite a long time, and it simply came to a head. That, and the emperor at the time decided that he didn't completely trust our ancestors. So a challenge was issued; I'm not completely clear on the details. All I know is that the Gyushu and the Go engaged in combat. If the Gyushu lost, they would be banished to the west while the Go descended to earth to safe-guard the eastern half of the world. If the Go lost, the entire clan would be destroyed."
Trent shook his head. "Short end of the stick, huh?"
Tsuzuku shrugged. "Perhaps. From what I DO know, the head of our family at the time only agreed to the challenge because the empress, a prescient, told him that a time would come in which the presence of the Go on earth would be necessary. Anyway, as my brothers and I obviously survived, the Gyushu lost, and were banished to the western hemisphere." Trent nodded. "Interesting story, but what does this have to do with me? For that matter, what does a fight between two divine clans over three thousand years ago have to do with me?"
Tsuzuku smiled. "When the Go descended to earth, they lost their immortality. They retained the divine draconic strengths, but they could die of old age and be killed. And understandably, they died. However, a few of them reincarnated."
Trent looked at him tiredly, leaning on one arm. "Let me guess; three of them?"
Hajime took over at that point. "If you're asking if my brothers and I are, then yes. Once every millenium, the children of the Go family return to the living world. I am The Blue Dragon, King of the East. Tsuzuku is the Red Dragon, King of the South. Amaru is the Black Dragon, King of the North." He turned to accept the trays of meat from their waitress. "But something strange has happened; the last king is missing; he wasn't born to our family."
"You mean a fourth king?" Trent asked
Hajime nodded his head. "The number rankings aren't based on our order of birth or age; they were true, but that's a secondary concern. The number of the king is actually based on their rank in the courts of the Emperor and of the Go family themselves. We've been looking for the White Dragon, King of the West for the past two years."
Trent idly snared some of the galbi, wrapping in lettuce with garlic. "So what does any of this have to do with me? Did some mad scientist find him and lock the information of where he is in my head or something?" Hajime continued to stare at him levelly. "Something a bit less out-of-the- ordinary, actually. The more predictable thing, in fact."
Trent paused. Bringing the lettuce roll to his mouth, he calmly ate it, swallowing before he faced them. "If you're going to tell me that someone decided it would be a great cosmic joke to reincarnate a three thousand year old 'white dragon king' in the body of an eighteen year old Scottish transfer student to Japan, then I sincerely hope that that you can come up with some REALLY impressive evidenceto back it up."
Amaru frowned in confusion. "Why on earth would we make something like that up?"
Trent shrugged. "Why does a galaxy spin the way it does? Just because I don't see the reason doesn't mean it's not there." He stood up to leave.
"You're not comfortable around other people," Tsuzuku remarked.
"Brilliant, Holmes."
Tsuzuku smiled faintly. "Yes, that IS something rather well known about you, isn't it? How about some things a little less well known?"
Trent turned at the door to look back. "I don't suppose that being a 'dragon king' would have anything to do with a pair of elves and goddesses of destruction, would it? No, I thought not."
Tsuzuku exchanged a somewhat puzzled look with Amaru, but chose not to address the odd question. "You like the wind, don't you? Your favorite weather in the world is when it gets somewhat cold; fall weather, with a bright sun, clouds in the sky, and a brisk, cold wind in the air. YOu've hiked up and down hills, for no purpose other than to stand on their tops and feel the wind rustling through your hair. You feel strange when you're alone in places like that; like you can hear voices, like all the sounds of the world are trying to tell you something you can't quite make out."
Trent hadn't left; he'd wanted to hear Tsuzuku's answer. "Okay, now that's just kind fo creepy."
Tsuzuku smiled. "Fungsahn was notorious for hating the intrigues of teh court; he chose to spend the vast majority of his time alone in the mountains of Tibet or on the Mongolian plains, where he could just listen to the sound of the air. Do you still believe that we're wrong?"
"Rather fervently," Trent replied. "I don't know HOW you know about my favorite kind of weather, but if I'm supposed to take that to mean that somehow I'm actually some kind of dragon, then your definition of 'convincing' is rather far from mine." He turned to walk out again.
"Not when you take into consideration some of those dreams of yours," Hajime called back. "Just about every person on the planet dreams about flying at some point. How many do you think dream about being gigantic lizards?"
Again, Trent paused at the door before turning back. "Okay, now I'm starting to get disturbed. Maybe you're stalkers. The problem with that though, is that I've never told anyone about those dreams. I haven't even talked to myself about them, so where could you have heard it? I don't write about my dreams either."
Hajime slipped his hand into a coat pocket, producing an odd-looking pen. It was obviously expensive; the metal-work had been done in what looked like platinum, the barrel of the pen itself carved out of seamless, flawless lapis-lazuli. Abruptly, it became burning white light, elongating into a four-foot length of slightly curved lapis-lazuli, marked all over with depictions of serpentine oriental dragons. Trent stared in open shock; he was used to seeing insane levels of martial arts. Shape-shifting weaponry was a bit farther away from his normal day. "Okay, that's new."
Hajime grasped one end, pulling it open to reveal the first three inches of a watered steel blade. He sheathed it almost immediately, returning it to its pen-shape before he spoke. "This is the Sword of the Blue Dragon King. It's the symbol of my power and rank as the Head of the Ryudo Clan, heir to the Blue Dragon King. It's also what awakened my powers roughly four years ago."
Tsuzuku pulled out a small notepad which began changing in a similar light show. It ended up being a large book, roughly ten by fourteen inches, probably four hundred pages long. The cover was tanned leather stained red, fixtures of gold set at each corner of the cover. The same images of dragons were set on it; along the spine mainly, though in the center of the cover had been set a strange design that looked as though four dragons had been bent into some kind of spiral. "This is my treasure; the Tome of the Red Dragon. Amarus's is the Staff. And we have the last treasure as well, the one that Fungsahn is meant to have."
Trent shook his head. "I still don't get it; what does this have to do with me?"
Hajime sighed. "The treasure is the key. Call it an artifact if you'd rather, but it remains our way of checking. If anyone other than the White Dragon, King of the West were to touch it, nothing would happen. If they tried to steal it, it would return to Amaru, as his duty is to guard our clan's treasures. But if the one who was reincarnated touches it, the sleeping dragon wakes up."
Trent shook his head. "If you're asking me to come and touch this whatever- it-is, forget it. I came here because I thought you could tell me why some highschool maniac was flinging wind razors at me, and I find out it's because the three of you think I MIGHT be some long-lost relative from another life. Why precisely should I feel grateful?"
Yuzuriha winced. "Please, don't blame Daisuke. He's not a bad person, he just takes his duties too seriously."
"And those duties include random murder?"
"His duty," Yuzuriha hastened to reassure, "is to protect Hinoto. I'm not saying he was right and that you're a threat, but he doesn't want to dare take any chances."
Trent rolled his eyes. "Great. Kill me on the off-chance I MIGHT become a problem later. And I'm supposed to like this guy, let alone tolerate him? I'm a nice guy, but I'm not THAT nice." He paused before leaving. "Look, this has been bugging me since this morning, but are you blind or something?"
Yuzuriha blinked in surprise. "Blind? No, I have perfectly good 20/20 vision. Why on Earth would you think I'm blind?"
Trent shrugged as he left, tossing back his answer. "It was the only reason I could think of for you getting to bring that weird-looking dog around everywhere."
Tsuzuku watched him leave, then turned to a by now VERY pale Yuzuriha. "Dog?" At her failure to answer, he waved a hand in front of her face. "Excuse me?"
She stared. "He can see him. Somone else can actually see him."
Amaru looked around. "See who?"
The unlikely shrine maiden started again. "Huh? Oh, it's nothing. Um...what's happening now?"
Tsuzuku turned to Hajime. "Still think it's him?" He smiled sheepishly at the arch look. "I'm sorry." Looking towards the door, he shook his head. "He hasn't changed a bit, not in three thousand years. Still the same sarcastic, sardonic old hermit he was when he first descended to earth."
Hajime nodded. "We can't force him to accept the Cloak. I wish we could, but he'd never forgive us if we did."
Amaru shuddered. "He was nearly killed today twice; do we dare let him go without making sure? YOU know what happens if someone actually succeeds in mortally wounding him."
Hajime stood up, their meal forgotten. "If someone succeeds, then God help us all. I can only imagine the devestation if we were lucky enough to get him to some wasteland when it happened; in downtown Tokyo?" He shuddered.
Yuzuriha heard them, but she didn't really notice.
--------
Kim flung an arm around Trent's shoulders during the break between classes. "Okay, spill. What's going on?"
Trent turned to regard his friend quizzically. He'd managed to convince himself that he really wasn't all that worried about all the stories he'd heard the night before, and now this. "Huh?"
Despite the difference of almost six inches in their heights, Kim managed to drag down the taller Trent's head to knoogie him. "Come on! You must have done SOMETHING! I mean, I have to take my hat off to you; here I thought you'd never get off your rear and enjoy life, and then you go and score something like this?"
Trent stared at him tiredly. Talking like that; really, what other interpretation could there have been? "What the hell are you babbling about?"
"Nekoi, you twit! She's been staring at you for the past hour!"
Trent's stare turned from exhaustion to incredulity. "What? Why would she stare at me?" He swiveled to look back at the sophomore, gaping as she started, turning back to her book hastily. He felt his jaw drop. She WAS staring at him. "What the hell?"
Kim rolled his eyes at the eloquent reply. "You know, I'd always known that you weren't gay. But you manage to get a girl like that on the first day she arrives? Man. They're right; you DO have to watch out for the quiet ones."
Trent snuck another glance at Yuzuriha. Same thing; she hastily started reading the same page again. He shook his head as he turned back. "Okay, I'm confused. I've spoken to her twice. We were in large groups at both times. I didn't say so much as a single word more than what I would have used if I bumped into a complete stranger. So why me?"
--------
Falaris threw his hands up at the knowing looks. "Don't look at me; I don't mess with romantic sub-plots."
Elle shook her head. "It's a crossover of Sohryuden and X/1999. Both of them are Shoujo series; both revolve around 'pretty boys.' Of COURSE there are going to be abrupt romantic sub-plots. The universe itself is trying to twist our unlikely hero into the role of a Casanova; he doesn't NEED divine intervention in a place like that. In Null, maybe, but not in Tokyo."
--------
"Do you mind if I talk to you for a moment?"
Yuzuriha started, blushing furiously as she recognized the voice as Trent's. "Huh?"
Trent sighed, massaging his temples with one hand. "Do you mind if I sit down? I needed to ask you something."
Yuzuriha managed to get her blushes under control. "Sure. Um..."
Trent muttered under his breath about 'blasted chairs not built for six foot males' as he sat down, but ended up speaking first. "Listen, I'm sorry if I shook you up last night, but what's the deal? I mean, why DOES that dog follow you around?"
Yuzuriha stared at him. "You can actually see him? You can see Inuki?"
Trent nodded slowly. "Yeaaah, if Inuki is that kind of misty-gray, wolf- looking dog that follows you around." Yuzuriha smiled faintly. "I didn't think anyone else could."
Sweat-drop. "Okay, I'm once again confused. Why can't anyone else see him?"
Yuzuriha smiled at Trent, scaring the crap out of him. THAT look was just bound to be trouble later on. "Did you know that I'm actually a priestess?"
Trent blinked. Oh, that was it. She'd been thinking of duties or something. Should have known better, really. "No, I hadn't heard. That, and you don't exactly dress like a priestess."
The sophomore giggled. "No, I haven't really had any reason to at any time. My family is the guardian of the Mitsumune Shrine."
"I don't follow."
"Oh, it's not too important. The thing is, all of the priests and priestesses there who've descended from my family have a dog spirit of some kind; Inuki is mine."
Trent nodded slowly, then scooted about two feet to the side. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.
Yuzuriha sweat-dropped at the sight of him beating his head against the table. "Are you okay?"
He looked up tiredly. "No, I'm not okay. I did SOMETHING in a past life that apparently made God take enough notice of me to make the effort to personally complicate my life. How would you feel if God himself decided to taunt you?" He paused again as thunder rumbled in the background. As there weren't any clouds in the sky, not even any fog, this was a bit out of the ordinary.
Yuzuriha frowned as she bent to look into his face. "Um...listen, it's not really important about Inuki, it's just that no one else has ever seen him before." She sighed wistfully. "When I was in elementary school, I used to try and tell everyone about Inuki and how much fun we had together, but they always said I was a liar. Grandmother always said that only I could see Inuki because I was a special person, but that someday I'd meet other people who could see him too." Her smile turned back to perky. "So anyway, what are you doing after school? Are you going to take up the Ryudo's on their offer?"
Trent managed to return to reality, turning vacantly to look at her. "I'm sorry, what?"
Yuzuriha giggled at him. "I asked if you're doing anything after school today."
Trent stared at her. "Miss Nekoi, did you just ask me out on a date?"
She pinked attractively, answering his question quite well. Groaning he drew his head back.
She shot her hand out in front of him as his head started to descend. "Um, you really probably shouldn't do that. It can't be good for you."
Trent sighed. "You know, this is kind of depressing. For the first time in my life, a girl has expressed an interest in me. And all I can do is wonder when the other shoe is going to drop. Says a lot about me, doesn't it?"
"You son of a bitch."
THAT proved enough to shock Trent out of (or at least part of the way out of) his depression. "Huh?"
"How dare you, you...you...you..."
Trent turned to the choked, stuttering (and just in case I've failed to make it clear, MALE) voice. "Uh...do I know you? You seem kind of familiar."
The scarred, bristly-haired figure was shaking in apparent anger. "Kojiro. Kojiro Mifune, Casanova."
Trent could feel the back of his head start bawling in frustration at the sound of the senior's anger. "Oh yeah, Captain of the Muay Thai club. So why Casanova?"
He jerked to the side as Kojiro's fist impacted the table. "HOW DARE YOU TRY AND SCORE SOMEONE LIKE HER, YOU BASTARD! CUTE JAPANESE GIRLS ARE OFF LIMITS, GET ME?!"
Trent blink-blinked at him. He was actually kind of torn as to whether he should be cringing in fear or laughing hysterically at the kickboxer's overdone attempts at making himself seem like some kind of righteous gangster. "When did this come into effect?"
"IT CAME INTO - " "Excuse me, Mr. Mifune? Can you see him?"
Kojiro spun to face her, his expression abruptly shifting to almost indulgent concern. "Of course I see him, the dastardly cad."
Yuzuriha managed to bite back the laugh. Dastardly cad? Who TALKED like that? "I don't mean Trent, I mean him," she said, pointing to her side.
Kojiro looked at the empty spot. "Huh?"
Yuzuriha picked up her tray and turned to leave, smiling at Trent. "Sorry, but I make it a policy never to date boys who can't see him." She paused as she was about to leave. "Oh Trent? I'll talk to you after school."
The scotsman stared as she walked away.
By this point, Kojiro actually WAS frothing. "You...poor girl...dare...fragile mind...corrupt..."
Trent looked back at him. "I'm sorry, are you saying that I've corrupted her mind or something?"
"DIEEEEEEEEEEE!"
Trent yelled in shock as he managed to scramble back out of his seat, avoiding the wild swing by a good foot. Further dodges would have been nice, but as his shoulder still felt like someone had pulled red-hot needles out of it, dodging was kind of impossible. He yelped in shock as a vaccuum blade exploded in front of him, conveniently managing to keep Kojiro seperated from him.
The kickboxer spun, but felt his desire to mangle the interloper die as it proved to be Ryoko. "Errr..."
She smiled darkly. "Attacking someone arbitrarily like that...have you no dignity? No pride as a warrior?"
Kojiro glared at her. "Shut up! This friggin' pervert's trying to turn poor little Nekoi into his love slave!"
Trent stared at him. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, where the hell do you get THAT from? I don't even try and TALK to girls; you think that I'm going to just up and try something THAT idiotic?"
Ryoko stared at them both. She'd fought Kojiro before; usually when he'd decided that the dojo area next to the Kendo Club's rooms should be open for them too. Composing herself, she pointed her bokken at him. "If you have a grievance, settle it like a man. Not like some thug (or a certain red mountain ape), but as a warrior, as a martial artist."
Kojiro glared at her, then abruptly grinned. Check, that he GRINNED. "TRENT MACRAE! I CHALLENGE YOU TO A K-FIGHT! TODAY, AFTER SCHOOL, IN THE MAIN ARENA! TO DECIDE WHICH OF US HAS THE RIGHT TO DATE YUZURIHA NEKOI!"
Trent stared at him. "Are you stoned or something? What do you think this is, the stone age? 'Beat her over the head and drag her back to your cave?' That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."
"AND YOU'VE HEARD IT RIGHT HERE FOLKS! A FOBIDDEN GRUDGE MATCH, THE PRIZE THE LOVELY NEW STUDENT, MISS YUZURIHA NEKOI!"
Trent turned to stare as...actually, he never did remember her name. He always just thought of her as 'that annoying chick in the media club' who served as the announcer for the K-fights. "You've GOT to be kidding me. God would not be so cruel." He moaned to himself as she managed to shoot into his face.
"Mr. MacRae, in the past year here at Daimon high, the only recorded K- fight you participated in was the recent near-upset against our very own Ryoko Mitsurugi. Now, you've been chosen to go up against Kojiro Mifune, one of our more dangerous fighters. What are your...uh, Trent? Do you mind?"
He paused in thumping his head against the table long enough to deadpan, "quite a bit, actually." Then turned back to trying to kill his brain- cells.
--------
"You have GOT to be...no, you're not, are you. You wouldn't joke about something this insane," Kim remarked.
Trent sighed as he finished his preparations for the match. He didn't wear a kendoist's traditional hakama and armor; against most of the fighters here, armor just slowed you down without actually protecting anything. As such, he'd chosen to just fight in loose pants and a t-shirt. Though why he'd chosen solid black was something that kept niggling at the back of his head, as though he should have remembered something but didn't. "I've never really bothered trying to socialize; I have three sisters, and between them and their friends, I'd long ago come to the conclusion that females equate trouble." He finished checking the leather wrapping he'd done to his wooden sword, checking the balance idly. "Nothing sexist, it's just that guys and women think differently, and I can't for the life of me figure them out. It would seem that I'm becoming vindicated."
Kim grimaced slightly as he watched Trent try to warm up. "You know, I've seen you fight against Ryoko in the gym. Even if yesterday's fight was a fluke, I think you're better than most people think. So in a completely fair fight, you'd probably stand a decent chance of winning against Kojiro. What chances do you think you have with that shoulder?"
Trent sighed. "Honestly? Not much; claymore-fighting is as much based on power as it is sword skill. It takes a lot more strength to move a long, heavy sword like this than it does a katana. Sure, the wooden sword's weight isn't that much an issue, but it's still not going to be a fair fight."
Kim shook his head. "If he weren't already brain-damaged, I'd have almost thought Kojiro was taking that into account."
Trent looked up as his name was called in the announcements. "You notice how he called for this match to be as public as possible? What he DID take into account was humiliating me." He chuckled weakly. "Unfortunately for him, I have almost no shame. Certainly not enough to feel bad about losing to him with a fairly serious injury still healing." With that, he jogged out into the ring.
--------
Yuzuriha stared as Trent entered. "What? He's actually going to fight with that injury?"
Daisaku shrugged from the table as he lowered his camera. "Kind of flattering, isn't it?"
Yuzuriha turned to him in confusion. "What do you mean?"
Daisaku turned back in surprise. "You don't know? Oh, that's right, you only arrived yesterday; no way you'd know everything about the K-fight system." He snapped a quick shot of Kojiro striking a pose before continuing. "If Trent refused to fight, then by the terms of the K-fight system, he would have already lost. In other words, Trent is up there to defend your honor and right to date who you want. From what I've heard about him, I doubt that he even realizes he's doing that, but it's still kind of romantic, isn't it?"
Yuzuriha blushed faintly. "Yes, it is," she mumbled. In her mind, she could already see the sakura petals as her brave samurai...well, highlander anyway destroyed his opponent, leaping from the ring to sweep her off her feet and proclaim his devotion...
Then reality returned, and she sighed in disappointment. Nice fantasy; she meets a guy who can finally see Inuki and they fall instantly in love with each other, because their vision makes them destined. Unfortunately, the guy seemed to be more confused and bewildered about her (she'd admit it) crush on him.
Because it really could just be a crush; maybe she was fixated on him just because he met one small criteria she had felt necessary. He might not be her type after all; maybe they'd just be random acquaintances.
Reality didn't last long. It was anime, after all. And thus did the people start to stare at the strange if cute exchange student with the shining eyes and sakura petals drifting around her.
In heaven, Falaris smiled sheepishly. "Okay, THAT time I intervened."
--------
Kojiro smirked as Trent entered the ring. "So, you had the guts to actually face me?" He chuckled, then burst into full-blown evil laughter. "Such a shame that your presence here serves no purpose other than to bring my manliness into the eyes of the masses! GAAAAHAHAHAHAH!"
In the audience, Azumi whistled appreciatively. "Not bad for an amateur; he shows promise."
Further talk ended as 'announcer girl' called for the fight to begin.
Again, Trent chose to focus primarily on defense. Bringing his claymore between him and Kojiro, he jumped backwards to dodge the flurry of vicious punches, ducking and pivoting as Kojiro scythed a vicious spinning hook kick at him. Taking advantage of his position, Trent swiped his claymore out as hard as he could at Kojiro's knee. Not as hard as he would have liked; he was still only able to use his left hand to keep the sword balanced, but it was still enough to knock the leg out from under the kick- boxer.
Kojiro managed to roll clumsily with the fall. It didn't do much for his image, but it did serve the purpose of reducing the injury. He was back on his feet in a second, this time focusing more on punching his foe into submission as opposed to kicking; like all kick boxers, he had balance problems, but he had the neurons to recognize it.
For his part, Trent remained on the defensive the whole time. He saw an opening every once in a while, but with his left arm out of commission, he knew that he'd only leave himself open to attack if he tried anything.
Abruptly, what had been a pistoning shot towards Trent's head turned into a swipe. Trent blocked with his sword, but it proved to be the worst move he could have made. Grabbing the sword, Kojiro yanked it around enough to keep Trent from using it, and punched him in the left shoulder. Hard.
Trent bellowed in pain as the nerves exploded in pain. It wasn't enough to dislocate it again, but it hurt like HELL. Stumbling back, Trent felt a black haze start to move across his eyes, and worried for an instant that he might be blacking out.
Then reflex took over as his sword lanced forward, faster than he'd ever struck before, sending a brief vaccuum attack into Kojiro's thorat. Enough to slow him down, but not much else. Still, it managed to shock the kick- boxer into brief caution.
Trent wasn't feeling terribly cautious. Now he was pissed. The strange part was that he didn't feel for even a second like yelling and charging and trying to beat his opponent into a state of severe pain. His mind was actually working more sharply now, more clinical. Staring coldy at his opponent, he switched his claymore to the left hand. Ignoring the pain, he began to swing it through slow, lazy figure eight motions. A small part of him wondered why the pain wasn't there, but he didn't really bother to think about it too much. His arm was good enough to fight again; it wouldn't take long now. "That hurt, you know. And I didn't think you would have considered striking weak spots to be sporting."
Kojiro smirked. "Hey, whatever works. Like I should care about the little skirt-wearer's morals."
Trent smiled, shocking Kojiro slightly. He wouldn't admit it, not even to himself, but the sight of that glacial smile scared him. Psyching himself up, he retook his stance, dancing on the balls of his feet. Trent just switched his claymore back to his right hand, letting the tip rest casually on the ground at his right.
Again, it was Kojiro who began the attack. This time though, Trent didn't even bother trying to counter. He just wasn't there; every punch was easily dodged. In frustration, Kojiro went for the Haymaker approach, slashing a round kick at him. In that instant, Trent ducked and simultaneously brought his claymore, slamming it violently into the base of his leg.
Kojiro screamed in pain as he collapsed to the ground, a roar of vicarious pain rising from every male throat in the crowd. Trent smiled darkly. "Two inches, Kojiro. That's all that kept the remnants of your bloodline alive."
Still gasping and cursing in pain, Kojiro stared at the scotsman. "What the fuck is wrong with you?! You don't hit a guy there!"
Trent smiled mockingly. "I'm sorry, but this little skirt-wearer's morals are rather simply defined. Let your enemy set the rules, then kill them under them. You want to go for the weak spots? Let's see who has the most." He returned to his stance, waiting.
Kojiro fumbled to his feet. He couldn't take a stance again; a single ounce of weight on his right leg would be enough to make him collapse. Limping forward, he tried swinging at Trent again.
It was the last move he took in the fight. In a lightning motion, Trent's claymore struck twice; once under each arm where it joined the torso. He didn't want to dislocate or break anything, but he fully intended to make sure Kojiro couldn't move any of his limbs. It was simple, really. His advantage was speed. It wasn't enough to win on its own. So all he had to do was slow his opponent down enough for a kill strike. Simple, really.
He finished off by sweeping Kojiro's left leg out from under him. As the kickboxer fell, his sword came up and around, and snapped forward in a savage thrust to the neck.
Kojiro stared in shock at Trent. The stab had been perfect; it had barely touched him. Just the wind of its passage though was giving him a rugburn. He wondered briefly what would have happened if Trent had decided not to miss. And thus it came to be that the mats had to be dry-cleaned of certain bodily fluids.
Trent leaned down to stare at his now-terrified opponent. "'And when I had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, 'come and see.' And I looked, and I beheld a pale horse, and him who sat on it was named Death, and Hell followed in his wake. And Power was given unto him; power to kill with sword, and with death, and with fire, and with the beasts of the earth.'" He rose up. "Don't ever try this again."
He turned to leave the ring, and while he ignored the stunned silence followed by the cheers as he walked out, that did not mean he didn't notice them.
--------
"That was unexpected."
Trent turned to the new face. "Amaru, right?" At the nod, he turned back to look into the sky. "Something on your mind? If it has to do with whatever I'm supposed to touch, please don't bother."
Amaru sighed, easing himself down to sit next to Trent. "I'd considered it. Actually, I'm here about that arm of yours."
Trent turned back, raising his left arm carefully. He still couldn't figure out why he'd been able to move like that with this level of pain, and he was starting to get scared. The dreams alone were bad enough, the last thing he needed was it turning out to be memories of a previous life. what passed for normality at Daimon High was bad enough. "What about it?"
Amaru's smile was a bit sheepish, if sympathetic. "I wasn't really paying much attention to your fight with Ryoko yesterday. I kind of didn't see any reason."
"Why would you?" Trent asked understandingly. "I was some random fool getting his stuffings beaten in. Just one more drop in the bucket here at Daimon."
Amaru shook his head at the perfect acceptance of being ignored. "Anyway, I wanted to show you something." He slipped the watch off his wrist; nickel-plated steel for the actual clock portion itself, the band made of some kind of glossy black metal. One light show later, and it had extended into a five and a half foot long staff. The haft was some kind of black material; it could have been wood, but something told Trent he was staring at a five-foot shaft of carved onyx. It looked strange; the length had been treated to resemble wood grain slightly, with wavy lines of charcoal gray showing faintly along its length. The head was in the style of a buddhist monk's staff; capped by a ring of metal divided in two, three more smaller rings of metal hanging from each half. Fairly ordinary, if you ignored the fact that the larger ring was made of two dragons meeting their heads at the top, the rings also made of smaller coiling dragons.
Trent stared at it. "Okay, I remember Tsuzuku mentioning that your treasure was the staff. Now what?"
Amaru just laid the head of the staff against Trent's shoulder, ignoring the strangled yell as its powers activated. "A dislocated shoulder can be pretty painful from what I understand. Thought that should help."
Trent stared at his arm. Raising it carefully, he swung it around in a few experimental circles. "Healed. Like it never happened." He shook his head. "If you charged for that, you could make a killing here."
Amaru grinned. "No, I wouldn't feel right about it." He stood to go. "Like I said, I'd mainly come here to try and convince you otherwise, but if you don't want to hear it, I better go."
Trent looked up. "I'm not going to, but would you mind answering a question?"Amaru stood up, changing the staff back to his watch. "If I can, sure."
Trent nodded. "Fair enough. Back in the restaurant, Hajime's sword came from a pen that looked pretty modern. Tsuzuku's book started out as a notepad, and your staff is apparently a watch. If those things are three thousand years old, how..."
Amaru chuckled. "We got them as a sword, book, and staff. Each new king chooses the alternate form."
Trent shook his head as Amaru walked off. "Now what?"
--------
Kamui gasped in pain as he fell to the pavement. I'm going to kill them both. She had no business... He winced as his landing managed to aggravate the hole in his side.
"What the hell?"
Kamui looked up as a tall, white-haired man...no, teenager (he DID pause to wonder what kind of eighteen-year-old would have silver-white hair) ran over.
Trent stared in shock. "Hey, you're the new kid, right? Kamui? Geez, what happened to you? You look like you lost a fight with a combine or something."
"Don't touch me!"
Trent ignored the ineffectual shove. "Yeah, yeah, you're strong enough on your own." Sighing, he bent down to support the smaller boy. He paused as he got his first good look at the wounds. "What DID happen to you? Those cuts look like they were surgical or something; what could have cut you that fine..." He paused. "Uh, I don't suppose you know a tall, blonde highschool student flinging around blades of air, do you?" He sighed as Kamui abruptly tried struggling again. "I'll take that as a yes."
Kamui tried shoving his carrier back, struggling to charge enough power to psionically zap him. "That FRIEND of yours - "
"He's NOT my friend," Trent gritted out. "The only reason I only know him in the first place is because he tried to murder me last night." His comments proved enough to calm Kamui, as he relaxed somewhat. Enough to lose consciousness like a normal human being.
Nothing happened as Trent worked to drag Kamui's body to the nearest doctor. Which, predictably enough (if you've read the manga) took him past the Togakushi shrine. Where Kotori Monou was conveniently (almost suspiciously so) waiting.
She stared in shock at the now profusely-bleeding Kamui. "Oh my god, what happened to him?" (1)
Trent sighed. "I'll let him tell you." "Look, I need to get him to the nearest doctor - "
"Kamui..."
Trent turned his head at the quiet, shocked voice. "Uh...he's pretty messed up. I found him on my way home."
The larger Fuma ran over quickly to grab the younger Kamui. "Kotori, call the doctor immediately. Tell him that someone was..." he turned to Trent.
Trent sighed. "He's suffering some pretty bad cut wounds, mainly to the side of his torso."
Fuma nodded. "Tell him that. He'll probably need stitches."
As Kotori ran off, Trent turned to Fuma. "You know him?"
Fuma nodded slowly. "We were friends a long time ago, before he moved away. We...we've been meaning to talk."
"What's this?"
Trent turned. "Hello Mr. Monou. Seems a friend of your son had a bit of an accident."
Kyougo frowned in concern. "What..." his eyes widened in shock. "Kamui..."
--------
Trent sighed as he walked out the door. The doctor had come and gone; the cuts were far shallower than he'd expected, and would apparently heal without any major scarring problems. Still, the doctor was baffled as to who had done the damage; what could have made cuts cleaner than those from a brand-new surgical scalpel?
He paused as he looked up. He wasn't Japanese, just in the country. Fortunately, that proved enough for him to sweatdrop as he came out. As the front gate itself was blocked off, he took a deep breath, turned, and started walking in the general direction of the shrine itself. "Now that's just silly. I didn't see a man in a business suit and overcoat use a set of iron claws (2) to batter aside lightning bolts from some guy who looks like he shops at the same store as Alvin from the Chipmunks. My head's playing tricks on me." Now if he could just start believing it...
"You...did you do this to Kamui?"
Trent screeched to a halt at the voice. He recognized it as Fuma's, but the tone was a bit off. As in, 'on the verge of entering an emotionless killing spree,' something he didn't usually equate with the nonchalant and expressionless Senior. Well, the killing part at least; he had a hard time picturing Fuma as anything other than emotionless. He continued watching as the teenager in the backwards baseball cap and "A" shirt did...something to a cube-shaped forcefield, somehow turning what HAD been a war-zone back to pristine. "Okay, THAT I'll admit is pretty impressive."
Taking a last look around, he noticed that the suit was heading away, Fuma was talking to the teenager, and no one was even bothering to LOOK his direction. Maybe he'd get a chance to actually get away before anything ELSE strange happened.
He kind of doubted it.
--------
Kyougo slowly rose from his crouch. Facing the altar solemnly, he removed his treasure and his bane, that grim trophy of his marriage that he'd kept safe for almost ten years now. Picking up the long, slender bundle, he faced it sadly. "Its finally time. Kamui has returned, and with his return we now face the end. I only pray that he is strong enough, that he is worthy of you now." With that, he removed the wrappings. Sacred cloth woven to protect from the sight of any and all, from dreamseers to dunces, fell away to reveal an awesome sight.
It had always struck Kyougo as somewhat strange that the weapon of the final battle, destined to be fought and decided in Tokyo, should be a thoroughly European sword. The four foot long claymore glistened faintly as he held it aloft, holy light shimmering down its length. Stepping to the lintels of his door, he held it aloft, letting the soft blaze of energies woven by heaven and earth shimmer in the moonlight.
A rustle of cloth was his only herald. He spun, the sword in hand as a figure began to appear in the candlelight of the altar. "Who's there?!" The intruder stepped out of the shadows. He appeared to be a young man in his early twenties; pale-skinned, white-haired, clad in dark gray, he seemed to almost be a living statue. The only concession to color was the strange mark on his forehead, almost that of a lotus as seen from the side. "I have come for the sword."
Kyougo frowned. "This sword is not mine to wield, but it is mine to give. And I have yet to see who is worthy to wield it. Depart in peace, and no harm will come to you."
Nataku began to let the long strip of white cloth he wore as a scarf slither to the ground. "I cannot depart."
Kyougo's eyes narrowed. "So be it. I paid a very dear price for this sword, and you will not have it."
Outside, Trent was currently facing a bit of an internal dilemna. On the one hand, he could feel that strange tickle along the length of his spine that had prompted him to see what had been going on with that weird fight and forcefield. On the other hand, if that meant what he thought it did (ANOTHER strange and most likely mind-boggling fight that would get him nearly killed), he REALLy didn't want to go within a hundred yards of the battle zone.
Groaning (and rather fervently wishing he could be apathetic enough to do the logical thing and save his own skin), he turned towards the source of the disturbance.
The shrine, it's insides currently flickering with strange lights.
Kyougo frowned in concern at his opponent. His prayers had been unleashing electricity of a power that you generally needed something along the lines of the Grand Coulee Dam to generate, and this strange, emotionless man was just deflecting them with nothing more than that strip of cloth. "I am not this sword's master, but to think that you could deflect its sacred lightning." His eyes widened in shock. "Could you be..."
Nataku ignored the next desperate blast, slipping past it as he shot towards the shrine master, his hand braced for a killing stroke.
For a long time, Trent was never completely sure what prompted him. All he did remember for sure was that he'd flung himself towards the shrine keeper, tackling him to the side just as Nataku struck. So rather than Kyougo having someone's hand rammed through his rib-cage, Trent ended up getting a nice, painful cut that completely bisected one of his kidneys.
Nataku paused to regard the man for a moment, then leaped upwards as another lightning attack streaked for him. He wasn't sure why, but the white-haired teen seemed...dangerous, to him.
Then he staggered to the side as a new blast ripped past him, the slip- stream alone unleashing enough raw force to severely bruise his ribs; it would have taken little more to crack them.
Hajime raised the sword for a second blow, but did not strike. He didn't want to kill the man, just drive him off. He sighed in relief as Nataku left; the man had the sense to realize that between the two of them, he was out-matched. "This world is changing far too quickly; too much occurs in too little time." He turned to regard Trent, his eyes widening in horror as he noticed the gaping wound. "What..."
Trent gasped in shock and pain. For the first twenty or so seconds, he'd been in shock, or so he assumed; he hadn't felt much. Apparently, the adrenaline had worn off, and he kind of wished it hadn't.
Hajime's sword snapped from its sheath as he bellowed to his brother. "AMARU! THE STAFF!"
Amaru stared in shock as Hajime unleashed a massive surge of raw energy from the sword. "What are you doing?! You're going to kill him!"
Hajime grunted under the strain. "That's what I'm trying to fight! I can't hold it back much longer; he was already dying !"
This time, it wasn't the sight of Hajime attacking Trent that made Amaru pale. Abruptly accelerating, he was next to Trent in moments, staff in hand. He desperately poured healing energies into the Scotman's body, knitting flesh and bone with a speed that made it seem that the wound simply ceased to exist.
Fumbling, Trent scrambled away from the two of them. A part of him marveled at the new health, but he had been JUST conscious enough to recognize what had been going on. He stared at Hajime wildly. "What the hell is going on?" he asked raggedly. "You saved me from Daisuke, you drove that guy off, and then you try and kill me?"
Hajime leaned against his sword as he crouched on the ground, panting heavily. "No, I was trying to suppress your powers long enough for Amaru to finish healing you. I'm sorry if that startled you, but I had no other choice."
Trent forced himself to his feet. Amaru had done a good job with him physically, but emotionally he was still pretty ragged. Two near-death experiences seconds apart can do that to you. "Alright, why suppress my 'powers?' Amaru healed my shoulder just fine without you trying that."
Amaru winced. "Trent...there's something we didn't tell you last night."
He rolled his eyes. "Great. Let me guess; this is going to be somewhat important?"
Amaru nodded carefully. "What we said about using the artifact to check for your powers? There's...a second way to do it. If you ARE the fourth king, then they'll automatically activate if you suffer a wound that should kill you."
Trent stared at him. "So if Daisuke had succeeded, then you would have known beyond a shadow of a doubt if it was me or not? So why not just let him kill me that time?"
Hajime stood up slowly; he recovered fast. "Two reasons. First of all, if you aren't Him then I don't want to have being an accessory to murder on my conscious. The other is that...gaining your powers that way isn't safe. For you, or for the greater portion of Japan."
Trent groaned. He really didn't need this emotional rollercoaster. "Just give me the bottom line, okay?"
Hajime took a deep breath. "Killing you wouldn't just trigger your powers; it's also one of the triggers for changing into a dragon. You'd become a nigh-unstoppable incarnation of death the size of a World War II aircraft carrier capable of levelling every man-made structure on the planet in hours. Of course, your immediate area wouldn't suffer much, as the energy back-lash of transforming equals that of a small tactical nuclear warhead, so there wouldn't BE anything to harm. Everything within a half kilometer would already be dead or dying, not including the area of effect just from the sound, light, and blast wave."
Trent stared at him in dull shock. "You're saying THAT is what your artifact does?"
Amaru shook his head. "The exact opposite, actually. The artifacts weren't just formed because of their extra benefits. The creators didn't even know that would happen at first, it just kind of did. They were really made so that the kings could gain their powers without reducing their kingdom to ash. It's the SAFE way to test for your powers."
Trent shook his head. "If the other option's like you said, why didn't you mention that?"
"Because you wouldn't have chosen then," Hajime said. "You would have done exactly what we wanted. You had to CHOOSE to try and become the dragon king."
"If that's the case, why tell me now?"
"Because you asked," was Amaru's reply.
Trent stared at the two of them for several minutes. No talking, no questions, just staring. He didn't think they were right; he was crazed, abnormal, and flat-out weird, but that didn't mean the reason was that he had the blood of dragons in his veins. That wasn't the point, however. The point was simply a question; was he willing to risk those consequences (assuming they were true)?
Logically, they probably weren't real. The concept of an animal that large was ludicrous; how could it survive? Just supporting its own weight would be impossible. And transforming someone his size into that much mass? Again, unlikely. And that 'nuclear bomb' backlash? Sounded awfully convenient.
Was he willing to risk that it was all a hoax? Tokyo had a population of around twenty million people; even if that kind of destruction occured only within a half-kilometer radius, hundreds of thousands would likely die just from that kind of a blast. Then of course there would be those left to try and live through the loss of power, gas, food, safe water, medical attention...the loss of life would likely double.
Not much of a choice, really.
"Two days," Trent said finally. "Give me two days to try and sort this out. Then, I'll go and we can find out once and for all if you three are right, or if you're just deluded."
Hajime nodded. "The dragons of heaven already know about us; that's why Daisuke tried to test you on his own. They're keeping the Cloak safe for now; in two days, we'll find them." He turned to Yuzuriha (she'd shown up to see who had put up the spirit barrier). "Provided of course that we ARE invited?"
Yuzuriha just grinned uncertainly. "Sure you are." She turned back to Kamui. "You should come there too; you need to know about this."
Kamui glared at the assembled people, but that was about all it was. He knew what he would do, just as well as they did. "I'll go."
To be continued...
Trent vs. Nataku in the Togakushi shrine, Amaru's save
Author's notes: Whew! Quite an update, huh? I'm probably not going to write as many chapters in this story, but they're going to be a fair bit longer than my usual ones. Anyway, this isn't really an X/1999 fic, it's a Sohryuden one. Unfortunately, that's not a sub-category on the site, so I'm calling it an X one anyway. By about chapter five, I'll be switching storylines a bit anyway. Till then, enjoy my changes. Also, I may not get another update for a while; I'm still kind of working on the storyline. If you have any suggestions, I'm open to them. Doesn't mean I'll use them, but if they fit what I want, maybe I will.
(1) - Kind of corny, I realize, but I'm not very good at writing about screechy damsels in distress...well, at least not their dialogue. Why do you think Book Two was about Slayers?