Henrika: I'm glad you like this story so far. Errr . . . the timeline is still confusing? Gee, I just keep making things more confusing the more I try to explain, don't I? Maybe a few more chapters will help. Now I just have to convince myself to write them now. . . . Heheh.
MoonlightNIV: Haha. I guess there are just too many mysteries I'm unwilling to part with right now, so no answer will truly be answered until the very end. And even that is not a guarantee. Hee-hee.
littleweirdwriter: That repetitive paragraph was not intentional, but it was my fault really. I was having some trouble thinking of what to write in that part, so I kept cutting and pasting a lot in that part. I must have pasted twice or something.
Disclaimer (I keep forgetting this!): I don't own Digimon, but I'm using the characters for my story. Oh yeah, and names of people or places from Trigun and Escaflowne. . . . And Sailor Moon (this one's really iffy) . . . Oh, and Final Fantasy 7 and Cardcaptor Sakura and Gundam Wing.
Oh right! And RG Veda and Revolutionary Girl Utena and . . . and that's it . . . I think. . . .
Resonators
By squishybookworm
"Hey, you!" Ryo shouted. "Take Rika and go!"
The boy's grey eyes snapped up to meet his. He hesitated, glancing at the strange Mistake that had appeared before them.
Ryo growled. Did the boy not have any sense? Rika was fatigued. She was no help here if they had to worry about possibly injuring her. "Take her back!"
"Henry!" Another man, an older swordsman, barked. "She's Vibrated too much. She needs to get back before it backlashes."
Henry nodded once before picking up the weakly protesting Rika. She struggled briefly, but her weakened muscles would not allow her to put up much of a fight. Abruptly she stopped and glowered up at him. She said something and then Henry took off with a loping gait that relayed him and his passenger quickly away from the battle.
Assured of their relative safety, Ryo turned back to the fight. Only to be slammed back with enough force that he stopped breathing momentarily.
He stared up at the sky for a few heart-stopping moments as the weight that had crashed into him shifted then rolled off with a pained groan.
"Sorry, kid," the swordsman huffed.
Said boy grimaced. "Umph." He sat up, biting back a low moan. Placing one protective hand over his bruised ribs, he made his painful way to his feet. A twinge from his earlier injury reminded him, how much they'd been Vibrating to get through those Tunes.
"Who are you?" he asked testily.
"I'm Tak—"
A loud crash and an accompanying shout sounded. The Mistake stopped long enough that Ryo could finally get a good glimpse of it. It was solid black and humanoid, but the arms and legs were too long and they were jointed like a spider, causing it to move on all four limbs. Hair sprouted all over its body, the filaments writhing and whipping about like extra appendages. The head was small. Ryo shuddered as the face made an expression of terrible glee. It was as if a child's head had been mounted on an enlarged arachinoid body.
Ryo followed its gaze. His eyes widened in alarm.
Takato and Jeri were aiding Kenta from where the Mistake had punched him.
The creature's hair stiffened to sharp points. They launched at the trio.
"Watch out!" Ryo cried, even as he pushed himself off.
Kenta's head snapped up. He pushed the other two and they all leapt to the side, landing in a pile of arms and legs.
"BASTARD!" Ryo cried. Faster! He had to go faster!
A spurt of red slashed down Kenta's back and he cried out in pain. The other two grabbed his arms as the hair circled around, seeking to impale the young student.
Wwwhhhoooish!
With an almost elegant flick, Ryo's Buster Sword sliced through the strands easily.
"Kenta is my charge," Ryo intoned evenly. The shadow of his sword fell across his eyes, enhancing the brilliantly angered aquamarine orbs. "No one touches him."
His eyes flashed. A familiar tingle traveled the length of his spine. When he charged the monster, it clearly did not expect the speed he'd achieved. His weapon came down hard, like Zeus' lightning bolt.
The Mistake stared dumbly at its severed arm.
Whish! Whish!
Two arrows thunked into its side, flinging it onto its side. A green-eyed man stepped out of the bushes and nocked another arrow. But before he could release his third arrow, the monster shrieked and whipped around, catching him across the head with his back leg.
"Trowa!" a feminine voice cried.
Before Ryo could strike again, a petite woman, with long pigtails dove from the thick foliage and charged the creature, trying to drive it away from the downed archer.
"Stay away!" Ryo shouted. "You'll get hurt!"
But she didn't hear him or didn't care. Mistake and woman met in a fury of strikes and counterblows. She managed to block a frenzy of attacks before the Mistake succeeded in impaling her shoulder. The force drove her back, pinning her to a tree. "Heeeeeheeheehee!" A patch of hair twisted into a sharp point and came down.
Fighting back a shudder at the almost human sound of its giggle, Ryo shouted, "I'm coming!" Power pooled into his legs and he dashed forward at inhuman speed. His large sword seemed to trail a ghostly dark blue fire as he brought it down on the monster's body.
Then he was flying through the air.
'Impossible!' his mind cried. But white-hot pain exploded through his skull as he slammed into a trunk. Air whooshed from his overworked lungs. A sharp ache spidered slowly from between his shoulder blades and his vision blurred. Dark spots swam before his eyes like unremitting flies. He gasped feeling as if his ribs were squeezing every organ in his chest.
Peering blearily at the battle, he blinked hard when the Mistake's missing limb seemed to reform. A viscous, magenta liquid dripped from the wound and seemed to mold itself into a semblance of a leg.
Ryo shook his head.
The limb was still forming.
This was impossible! No one had ever heard of a Mistake capable of this kind of regeneration!
He got up slowly. The faint sounds of battle gradually filtered through the ringing in his ears.
"Trowa! MOVE!"
The large swordsman's voice reverberated through the clearing and as if responding to his call, the wind whipped the branches overhead furiously, showering the group with a fall of leaves. They caressed the archer's bowed head as he cradled the pig-tailed woman tenderly. She did not move.
Unconscious or . . . dead.
"TROWA!'
"Heeeeeheeheeheeheehee!"
The Mistake whipped several sharp twists of hair at the auburn-haired man. He looked up at the oncoming spikes. His face was calm. Without expression.
CLANG!
The Mistake paused in its attack, staring stupidly at the severely dented frying pan as it ricocheted off it and fell to the ground with a dull thud.
"Eek! I-I hit it!" Jeri clutched Takato's arm, who yelped and tried to twist out of her grasp.
The swordsman wasted no time in striking the creature, drawing its attention away from Trowa and the woman.
"Trowa, move it! Go!" He swung his broadsword again. "Run!"
The green-eyed man gathered his companion close and rushed towards them. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Ryo and his group as he passed them. His quiet words floated back, unnervingly even and calm, "Come with me if you wish to leave."
"Kenta." Ryo tipped his head to indicate that he and Takato and Jeri follow the older man.
"What about you?" Kenta asked.
"It'll beat that swordsman to a fine bloody mess," Ryo flashed a wide grin. "Unless I get to it first."
He ran back to the battle, not bothering to see if they'd all left. Not wanting Kenta to see the brief spike of uncertainty that seeped through. Even when he'd Vibrated, the creature had managed to strike him. How, was he, to defeat it?
Momentarily, an image of the pig-tailed woman's unmoving and bleeding body appeared in his mind's eye.
He pressed his mouth into a thin white line. The monster deserved the punishment he was about to receive.
The Mistake swung its newly formed arm into the swordsman, its chubby face twisting into a snarl. The older man flew, crashing into the brush. From its peripheral vision, a shadowy form leapt at it. Grinning evilly, its cherub face alighting with wicked delight, it jumped. Straight up into the air like a super-powered gymnast.
"Huh?" Ryo grunted. His sword whooshed through empty space as the fine air on the back of his neck rose.
Instinct urged him to drop his heavy sword and bend his legs to spring, pushing him out of the shadow of the onslaught.
FWIT! FWIT! FWITFWITFWIT!
Strands of hair punctured the ground, creating thousands of small pockmarks.
WHUMPF!
Ryo rolled to one knee, kicking up dust as the ground shuddered from the impact of the Mistake's landing.
His sword lay gleaming underneath the Mistake's body, urging him to hurry and reclaim it.
"Heeeeeheeheeheehee!" The Mistake's hair shot forward again, a thousand tiny, needle-sharp pinpricks.
But instead of avoiding the barrage, Ryo remained crouched, his arm outstretched behind him. His hand hung limp, cupping an invisible weapon. His gaze stayed trained on the Mistake, even as his vision quickly filled with the surging points of hair. He breathed steadily. In. Out. In. Out.
Now!
His eyes blazed like the azure at the heart of a flame.
"DESOLATION CLAW!"
His arm swept forward, his hand shaped like a claw. The air before him wavered as energy surged forward, carving a path through the mass of hair. Ghostly blue smoke trailed the blistering path of the attack and the acrid smell of ash drifted past his nose.
It slammed into the Mistake.
"AHHHH!" The Mistake reared on its hind legs as the force of the strike drove its head back.
Ryo dashed forward. He reached down. And grinned in triumph as his hand found the reassuring weight of his sword hilt. Once in his hands again, he sliced upwards, driving the great blade into the underbelly of the Mistake, not pausing even as it screamed in pain. A sound so eerily similar to that of a dying chick.
He leapt back out of range and waited for the Mistake to right itself before attacking again.
"Impossible," he breathed.
The wound on the Mistake's dark, slim belly was already filling up with the red goo and the furthest edges of the wound had already darkened to a deep red, almost matching the tone of the surrounding skin.
"So what am I supposed to do?" Ryo muttered.
As the cut healed, the Mistake glanced down at it then back up at the Echo brunette. Although sweat poured down its face and it pulled breath laboriously to its lungs, it managed to smile maliciously at Ryo.
Ryo tightened his grip on the sword and brought it up into an offensive stance. "Guess I'll have to follow Princess' example and chop off your head, huh?"
He shot forward. Faster than a heartbeat. A blue blur.
But not fast enough.
The Mistake's long arms shot out behind him and grabbed his neck and torso. It squeezed his shoulders, causing his arms to go slack.
He choked and struggled vainly to escape from its grasp. Dark spots dotted his vision as his lungs began to burn and he squeezed his fists futilely.
"Heeeeeheeehe—aghk!"
The squeezing stopped.
"Aghk?!"
The hands loosened.
"Aagh! Aagh! Ahh!"
The merciless ground caught Ryo and he groaned, blinking away the bright spots of color. Hard fingers dug into his shoulders and he resisted weakly before realizing that they were dragging him away from the Mistake. He sagged, too oxygen-deprived to force his muscles to move.
"What is it doing?" The gruff voice of the swordsman rumbled comfortingly down to Ryo, who shook his head weakly. What was what doing?
"Aagh! Aagh! Ahhhhh!"
Ryo glanced at the Mistake. It was writhing and twitching uncontrollably. Its tiny black eyes rolled in their sockets as it clawed at its chest. The strange red mucous had dried up becoming a hard rusty color. It flaked at the Mistake's frantic scrabbling and more red goo oozed out.
Ryo cocked his head. Shook his head and cocked it again.
The swordsman flicked burgundy eyes down at him. "You hear it too, boy?"
Ryo nodded. "It is like a . . . hissing."
"Yeah and it is coming from that thing."
Soon enough, the Mistake collapsed, its cries keening like a puppy that had been abandoned. Ryo had to suppress the shudders that ran up his spine as if an unseen hand brushed continuously up and down his back.
The hissing became louder and wisps of smoke wafted off boiling wounds that appeared suddenly all over the skin of the dying creature. They popped audibly, secreting some more gelatinous red substance. This quickly ate at the surrounding flesh, glopping and causing more steam to rise.
This drifted towards the two bringing with it the scent of burning flesh. Ryo swallowed repeatedly, tasting bile in the back of his throat. But he kept his gaze steady on the dying Mistake. Somehow, he could only feel pity for the creature as its body shriveled up into a dry husk.
Whatever had happened, it was a miserable way to go.
". . . Alone. . . . Always . . . alone . . . My fate . . . Where . . . ."
A figure huddled in what seemed like a large bubble. The walls shimmered with an iridescence born of no conceivable light source and cast no shadow.
The figure hugged her legs closer, long brown hair spilling over her narrow shoulders. She continued to whisper, "Where . . . is everyone . . . ? Have they all . . . left? Where . . . ? Left . . . me . . . alone? . . . Why . . . ?"
"Yesss," a disembodied voice hissed. "They left you. They abandoned you. No one wanted you." It seemed to whisk around the bubble like a gentle wind before settling gently upon the figure's head.
". . . But . . . they said . . ."
"Lies! If they wanted you, why haven't they returned for you? To them, you were a nuisance! A pest! A fly! You thought they liked you, even loved you! But they didn't! This is their love! Can you trust them?! Can you go back to them now?!"
She trembled, silent. The words were true. They were true and yet . . . and yet there was something wrong. No. There was a truth. But her mind was swirling so much. Lights and colors. People and words. Tears and brave smiles. What was the truth?
If she could squeeze her eyes tight enough . . . if she could cover her ears . . . if the blankness of her mind would open up . . . but nothing could be trusted. Images of smiling people blending into pastel colored light that gradually faded out, leaving her more alone than ever. So, better not to think of them. But then that left dreams of untouchable memories and tangible illusions. Nothing was real anymore. And she floated. In a world; a bliss; a prison of her own mind.
"No . . . faith. . . ."
"Yesss. No faith. No one can be trusted. Hahaha!"
Nothing constant but her distorted reality and the taunting presence outside the sphere.
For an eternity, this was all she could remember. So that meant everything else was an illusion, right? This was her reality, right? Always alone, right?
But . . .
"But . . ."
Everyone . . .
"Everyone . . ."
There were people . . .
". . . Before . . ."
How could she be alone? They said they'd always be with her. . . .
"Always . . ."
Where were they?
". . . Where . . . .?"
A face.
". . . Who . . ."
Warm burgundy eyes.
". . . Who are . . ."
The edges of the face remained blurred. But the eyes . . . they were so familiar.
"Who are you . . . ?"
"I am you. Heeheeheehee." A second figure appeared suddenly. As if she'd always been there. Her skintight body suit molded to her slight curves and vibrant, almost magenta colored hair barely brushed her shoulders. Her face, still round with baby fat, radiated a frozen expression that was better suited to an adult who had lived through and committed atrocious acts that could never be forgiven.
The nameless face and kind brown eyes dissipated immediately. Nothing but a dream. An illusion. A nonexistent past.
Blankness and she was alone again. "Alone. . . . Always. . . ."
"Yesss," the second girl said. "You and I. Our destiny. This is our fate. Hm?" She paused and tilted her head as if listening for something in this soundless place where not even their voices echoed. "A part of me has disappeared. . . ."
". . . My fate . . . Always . . . alone. . . ."
Her golden eyes darted down to the small figure and for a moment something soft glimmered. Something that was quickly squelched like an insistent fly. "We are both alone. Forever and always. Because . . ."
". . . My destiny . . . Where is . . . Why . . . am I . . . alone. . . ?"
Her face was a cool mask. "Because this is my directive. No other options are viable."
". . . Why . . . ?"
After a few minutes of running, the dark and faded forest had gradually thinned out and gave way to rocky ground. In the distance, triangles of mountains poked through the clouds and evenly met his astonished stare. He and his master had traversed those mountains as they'd traveled to Inepril. They'd lost sight of the range, weeks ago.
The land also sloped downward slightly, which Henry had found strange because the path he and the others had traversed when tracking the Mistake, had been relatively flat. The colors were also more vibrant. Almost too bright.
The stones underneath and the scrabby grass, along with the occasional pine tree, almost seemed to pulse with a vibrancy that was more suited to a forest. Like the one they'd left behind.
"Where are we?" The girl in his arms opened her eyes and lifted her head half-heartedly. She swept the passing scenery with lavender eyes then said, "I don't recognize this place. Where have you taken us?"
[I do not know.] He stared at her intently. Maybe he'd only imagined that she could hear him.
She frowned. "Don't tell me you don't know how to get out?"
[No.]
"Great. An incompetent fool," she muttered, closing her eyes and laying her head back down on his shoulder.
Henry ignored the insult, too fascinated with her ability to hear what he was "saying" to her. This had never happened before. As long as he could remember, he'd never been able to respond vocally or communicate with words to anyone. The healer in his village had been perplexed with his inability to talk and his mother had blamed herself, believing she'd done something horrible in a previous life or harming him before his birth.
He could remember once walking back home from a session with Master Long. He'd cut back through the alley behind the healer's shop to reach the main street. The evening had been freezing; although, strangely enough, his skin had felt as if it was on fire. His chest had felt constricted and he'd used the wall to support his weight as he labored to reach the street. Once there, he knew that someone would surely help him. But as chills wracked his small frame, he'd finally collapsed. He'd awaken much later to feel a cool clothe on his forehead. And his mother's wonderful and gentle eyes peering down at him worriedly.
As soon as his eyes had opened, relief had flooded her face and she'd smiled. Then her expression broke and tears welled up in her almond-shaped eyes as she cupped his face tenderly.
"Oh, Henry." she'd whispered. "My strong, silent son. The Heavens should have punished me."
Two crystal droplets splashed against his cheeks like hot brands and he could only wonder why his mother was crying. Why was his beautiful mother crying?
He'd later found out that he'd been passed out for hours. Five feet away from the street. Where anyone would have heard him if he'd been able to call out.
You are the first to have responded.
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her so, but one look at the dark bruises underneath her eyes and he stalled the words.
Her face was pretty. Not so much beautiful as striking. There was a strong sense of character evident in her small pointed chin, which jutted out slightly, almost belligerently. One brow arched gracefully into a mottled bruise, which continued back to her hairline. Dirt smudged her pale skin and a streak swept along her cheekbone like rouge, where her dark lashes brushed against her smooth cheeks with an artist's masterful touch. Her lips were pressed together slightly, the only sign of her displeasure in having to rely on him to carry her, and occasionally they would twitch as a stray curl of strawberry blond hair caressed them.
Without opening her eyes, she asked crossly, "What are you looking at?"
[You.]
She opened stunning violet eyes and glared at him weakly. "Stop staring."
[Why?]
Some flowing tendrils escaped her tight ponytail and fluttered coquettishly just underneath his chin. It was surprisingly soft for such a hard-eyed girl.
"Because it's perverted."
[Why is it perverted? I am not doing anything else.]
She snorted, closing her eyes again. "Well, it's rude."
[True.]
His eyes traced the straight line of her nose, which had wrinkled cutely.
"You're still staring."
[Yes.]
"I thought I told you to stop," she growled.
He shrugged and turned his gaze to the hard ground before him.
He had a strong jaw. Rika could imagine her grandmother's satisfied voice as she said that statement. Rika would have to grudgingly agree. Not that the boy had that many good points. For one, he was a pervert. Well, he hadn't done anything extremely lecherous, but he was a boy, wasn't he? And if he wasn't a lech, he was definitely a player of some sort.
Yes, definitely a player, Rika decided as she peered up at him through her lashes. Look at those eyes! She'd never seen anyone with such stormy grey eyes. They were a pure color. Not hazel or speckled.. A clear silver hue. She'd bet five gold coins, he'd used them frequently to charm the mindless twits of his village.
[Miss?]
She frowned. Why was he calling her that? She wasn't some delicate waif who couldn't even walk under her own power. Pause. Admittedly she was allowing him to carry her, but it wasn't as if she had a choice!
[Miss?]
"Stop calling me that!"
There was a moment of silence. She could feel a faint sense of surprise on his part, before he said, [What shall I call you?]
". . . Nonaka . . . Rika." Now, that she had time to think about it, she realized she knew absolutely nothing about this boy. Not even his name! He could be worse than a pervert! He could take advantage of her weakened state.
[– is Wong Henry.]
Rika tensed, barely stopping her shallow breathing as her heart leapt in fright. But her muscles would not cooperate. Her arms remained limp and she felt like her head had been stuffed with cotton weighted down with lead beads.
[Is something wrong?] Henry's brow creased in concern. He could hear her shaky pants although she was obviously trying to hide it and had felt her muscles shift slightly. Was this the backlash Takato was talking about?
"Nothing!" she snapped. "Shouldn't you be paying attention to where you are going?"
Henry raised one brow. [But I do not know where we are going.]
Her brows twitched, almost as if she was trying to frown, but could not summon the energy to do so. "I'll have to Vibrate us back to the Kami-Tune. We're far enough away."
[Kami-Tune?] Oh. She must have meant the world they normally inhabited. That was a good idea. There may be more of those creatures. He hid a shiver. The thing had been so . . . unnervingly human-like.
"You don't know about the Tunes?" she snapped. But although the bite was there, it was softened by the low slur that had suddenly entered her voice.
He nudged her head with his shoulder. Her eyebrow twitched and she stifled a yawn.
[I suggest you . . . Vibrate? . . . return us to the Kami-Tune now.]
She lifted her hand and waved lazily, knocking his shoulder. "We're too far from Inepril," she mumbled, "there're no mountains near there."
He shook her head again. [Wake up.]
"I am," she slurred.
He jiggled his shoulder, rocking her head again. [Miss, we need to return to the Kami-Tune.]
"Fine," she sighed, opening her wide lavender eyes.
[Should we wait for the others?]
"No. They know how to return. We don't have time to wait."
[What if . . . they could not defeat that creature?]
Her answer was prompt. "Then I am very unfortunate because I'll have to return to finish that Mistake off."
[What about your friends?] Henry winced at his acerbic tone.
"What about your friends?" she countered.
[I hardly know them. We have only just met, but . . . I do not wish that they be harmed.] He peered at her expressionless face, wondering what she was thinking now.
She wished he would stop staring at her. She knew Ryo. Knew he would go all heroic and besides, the brief glimpse she'd gotten of the swordsman, had been favorable. From her position across the clearing, she'd clearly seen the occasional dent in his mail and the corded muscles in his wrists as he'd expertly handled his broadsword.
Now, she hoped Ryo wouldn't be so caught up in his justice reel that he didn't forget why they'd originally Vibrated. If he didn't get those two back safely, she would have to share the consequence of that as well.
"I don't want you stumbling around like a blind bat, so close your eyes."
Without waiting for his reply Rika called upon a power imbedded so deeply within herself, she wouldn't be able to live without it. A familiar tingle swept across her skin and she felt Henry shudder against her.
Then it stopped.
And she was falling.
[Nonaka?]
Falling.
[Nonaka?]
Falling.
[. . . Rika?]
Into misty grey eyes and strong warm arms.
A/N: As always, comments and criticisms are greatly appreciated! Thanks!