Recap: "Finally, a chance to relax after this gods-awful week I've been through." This was what Rock thought just before he fell asleep in Haohmaru's dojo. Even as he slept, he was already beginning to dream of what his life would be like by Terry's side...
Chapter Ten: The Mark of the Wolves
Rock's eyes snapped open and he sat up on the bed, not even having undressed due to the excitement. As soon as he was on his feet, he eagerly called out "Is he here yet!?" The only reply to this was an angry growl and a snap from the voice of a familiar samurai coming from across the hall, "Shut up over there!" Despite this, Rock was out the door and anxiously waiting on the front step of the dojo within the minute, his eyes staring at the red steel gate, just waiting for it to swing open. A large smile was on his face for the entire duration of the first thirty minutes, which had become a wide grin by the end of the first hour, which became a tiny smirk by the end of the second hour, which became just a regular expression by mid-afternoon, which had become a frown by sunset, which had become that of sorrow by late evening, near-tears by midnight. "Terry.." Rock whispered quietly to himself, "you're late..."
The same thing happened the next day. Rock ate his sparse meals at the doorstep. His eyes were fixed on the gate the whole time. "Maybe he got in a fight... I KNOW he wouldn't leave me on purpose..."
He held out this hope for the entire first week, which had begun to diminish by the end of the first month, which was completely put away.. but never forgotten, at the end of the first year. Throughout this time, he came to know Roll and Haohmaru rather well. To his surprise, what he had presumed to be a statue on the roof of the dojo turned out to be a woman. Nin Keiyoma, Haohmaru's assistant instructor. She wore a plain white shirt with no pants, the bottom of the shirt just long enough to act as a short skirt. With her long silver hair and her red eyes, her shirt certainly accented her pale skin and delicate motions. The wings that Rock had mistaken as part of a gargoyle statue had turned out to be a large set of mechanical wings affixed to her shoulders, and their operation was as swift and graceful as any bird. It was with these three people; Haohmaru, Rolana (or Roll, as she preferred to be called), and Nin that Rock lived with, day after day. Their dojo, which apparently taught was was called the 'Hakkyokusaiken'* school of martial arts, had a minimal amount of students who Rock also took a liking to. Month after month went by, and no news of Terry. One particular show however, 'Big Shot', rekindled Rock's memories of the assassin girl. Numerous pictures were shown of her, though not a single one was from an angle where one could see her face. Her bounty increased with each year that passed, until the day of Rock's sixteenth birthday. That same day, her bounty rose to a staggering amount: $999,743,610.75 Just falling short of one billion dollars. The day of Rock's sixteenth birthday, September 12th 2102, he received a shimmering red Honda Shadow Spirit. Although it certainly looked nice, it was far from the hoverbike he dreamed about, and it was about one hundred years old, even if it did have a glossy paint job. A few days later, talk of a brand new dance club, Tahcemina, began to swamp the TV stations, and of course, Rock's constant badgering towards Haohmaru guaranteed that he'd be allowed to go... after the requisite chores. Once that was ready, he hopped on his shiny red Shadow Spirit, not ashamed of the wheels, and took off in the direction of Neo Ashibara. The dojo was fairly remote in terms of proximity to the city, so his motorcycle acquired a nice thin layer of dust by the time he was out of the forest and in the city.
Within the city of Neo Ashibara is where our story resumes.
The wind tossed his faded blond hair about his head as his motorcycle whipped down the city road, an anxious grin on his face. Rock's four years at the dojo had given him little exposure to anyone other than Haoh, Roll, and Nin; and as such, he was a bit on the shy side, despite the numerous compliments he received on a near-daily basis regarding his appearance. As his motorcycle came to a rest in it's parking place between two cars, his bright red eyes looked to the handlebars, and at the same time, the cuffs of his red jacket. Four years and he still wore it on a daily basis. The sleeves had to be tailored a bit to stay at an even length with his arms, but the waist was left untouched. This meant that the bottom of his jacket stopped a few inches above the waist of his black jeans, giving his tight gray shirt just enough to hint at the fierce set of stomach muscles they concealed. As he stepped off his motorcycle, he couldn't help but feel a bit nervous as he approached a tall man with spiky blond hair and orange circular shades. He let out a small smirk and nodded to Rock, signaling his approval. As he stepped in, he heard a random person near the entrance gasp with astonishment. "Did Vash just LET someone in?"
She ignored everything she felt when she first saw him. His hair, not a powerful yellow blond, but a somewhat faded platinum blond swiveled gracefully about his beautifully shaped face, the tips just long enough to partially obscure his vision through his ruby red eyes. His eyes matched the color of his thin jacket, not hiding his broad shoulders that fit the proportion of his slender and narrow body perfectly. He had been standing still as she watched, but now he began to walk. Not in her direction, but away at a slight angle. 'Oh sweet merciful gods above..' she thought to herself. 'Look at those hips...' Her admiration of Rock's lower body proceeded along a somewhat predictable path, thighs and butt, her crimson eyes soaking in his features. After she finally settled down, she shrugged it off and returned to sipping her mixed drink.
The place was rowdy and filled with all different kinds of characters, elaborate costumes and quirky personalities all unfolding before Rock's eyes as he made his way around the edge of the room. 'This place is like half bar, half dance club... cool' Rock thought to himself. But his observant reverie was interrupted by an unseen figure that he bumped directly into. Rock stumbled back for a moment before falling onto his butt, hearing a familiar voice.. with a tone of surprise in it. "Wolf cub!?" His red eyes widened in an instant as he looked up at the figure before him. In loose blue jeans that tightened around his thick thighs, a brown leather jacket, and blond hair trimmed to shoulder-length, there stood Terry Bogard. A few spectators that were standing nearby glanced casually at the brief collision, but the entire room fell into dead silence as Rock stood, and the star on his back was visible, the wings as well. Terry had a reputation as the 'Lone Wolf', and the star on his jacket, even his new brown one, was a symbol of his self-proclaimed wolf status. After the vigorous beat-down he had given a gang of teenagers that wore the same patch, no one dared to wear a garment with a five-point star anywhere on it. Terry just stared at Rock with his azure eyes, each of his arms occupied around the waist of a suspiciously young woman. Rock's eyes burned with anger as they glared in return, the muscles in his right arm quivering in their attempts at restraint. "Aren't you a little late to pick me up..?" Rock whispered in a faltering voice. He didn't even know how he did it, but in an instant he had found his way to Terry, his fist, clad in a black leather fingerless glove, lunging at his face. Terry parried this blind thrust with the proficiency of an experienced martial artist, his hand taking a firm grip onto Rock's fist and slamming his knee into his stomach, a second knee to the face sending Rock falling back. "You'll never learn, wolf cub.." A deafeningly loud collective gasp escaping every spectator in the room. "Wow... he's the miburo*..." A few people murmured. "But I thought that was just a legend?" A few people contested. "Who, Rock?" Terry scoffed in the general direction of the voice. "That's no legend, he's just a sad little puppy with nowhere to go." Rock's eyes glowed like coals, only redder, as violently curling flames of bright cyan coated his hands.
"Raising a....."
*hakkyokusaiken: Hah-ki-o-kooh-say-kin. Just run it all together and say it quickly.
*miburo: The Japanese word for 'wolf'.
Chapter Ten: The Mark of the Wolves
Rock's eyes snapped open and he sat up on the bed, not even having undressed due to the excitement. As soon as he was on his feet, he eagerly called out "Is he here yet!?" The only reply to this was an angry growl and a snap from the voice of a familiar samurai coming from across the hall, "Shut up over there!" Despite this, Rock was out the door and anxiously waiting on the front step of the dojo within the minute, his eyes staring at the red steel gate, just waiting for it to swing open. A large smile was on his face for the entire duration of the first thirty minutes, which had become a wide grin by the end of the first hour, which became a tiny smirk by the end of the second hour, which became just a regular expression by mid-afternoon, which had become a frown by sunset, which had become that of sorrow by late evening, near-tears by midnight. "Terry.." Rock whispered quietly to himself, "you're late..."
The same thing happened the next day. Rock ate his sparse meals at the doorstep. His eyes were fixed on the gate the whole time. "Maybe he got in a fight... I KNOW he wouldn't leave me on purpose..."
He held out this hope for the entire first week, which had begun to diminish by the end of the first month, which was completely put away.. but never forgotten, at the end of the first year. Throughout this time, he came to know Roll and Haohmaru rather well. To his surprise, what he had presumed to be a statue on the roof of the dojo turned out to be a woman. Nin Keiyoma, Haohmaru's assistant instructor. She wore a plain white shirt with no pants, the bottom of the shirt just long enough to act as a short skirt. With her long silver hair and her red eyes, her shirt certainly accented her pale skin and delicate motions. The wings that Rock had mistaken as part of a gargoyle statue had turned out to be a large set of mechanical wings affixed to her shoulders, and their operation was as swift and graceful as any bird. It was with these three people; Haohmaru, Rolana (or Roll, as she preferred to be called), and Nin that Rock lived with, day after day. Their dojo, which apparently taught was was called the 'Hakkyokusaiken'* school of martial arts, had a minimal amount of students who Rock also took a liking to. Month after month went by, and no news of Terry. One particular show however, 'Big Shot', rekindled Rock's memories of the assassin girl. Numerous pictures were shown of her, though not a single one was from an angle where one could see her face. Her bounty increased with each year that passed, until the day of Rock's sixteenth birthday. That same day, her bounty rose to a staggering amount: $999,743,610.75 Just falling short of one billion dollars. The day of Rock's sixteenth birthday, September 12th 2102, he received a shimmering red Honda Shadow Spirit. Although it certainly looked nice, it was far from the hoverbike he dreamed about, and it was about one hundred years old, even if it did have a glossy paint job. A few days later, talk of a brand new dance club, Tahcemina, began to swamp the TV stations, and of course, Rock's constant badgering towards Haohmaru guaranteed that he'd be allowed to go... after the requisite chores. Once that was ready, he hopped on his shiny red Shadow Spirit, not ashamed of the wheels, and took off in the direction of Neo Ashibara. The dojo was fairly remote in terms of proximity to the city, so his motorcycle acquired a nice thin layer of dust by the time he was out of the forest and in the city.
Within the city of Neo Ashibara is where our story resumes.
The wind tossed his faded blond hair about his head as his motorcycle whipped down the city road, an anxious grin on his face. Rock's four years at the dojo had given him little exposure to anyone other than Haoh, Roll, and Nin; and as such, he was a bit on the shy side, despite the numerous compliments he received on a near-daily basis regarding his appearance. As his motorcycle came to a rest in it's parking place between two cars, his bright red eyes looked to the handlebars, and at the same time, the cuffs of his red jacket. Four years and he still wore it on a daily basis. The sleeves had to be tailored a bit to stay at an even length with his arms, but the waist was left untouched. This meant that the bottom of his jacket stopped a few inches above the waist of his black jeans, giving his tight gray shirt just enough to hint at the fierce set of stomach muscles they concealed. As he stepped off his motorcycle, he couldn't help but feel a bit nervous as he approached a tall man with spiky blond hair and orange circular shades. He let out a small smirk and nodded to Rock, signaling his approval. As he stepped in, he heard a random person near the entrance gasp with astonishment. "Did Vash just LET someone in?"
She ignored everything she felt when she first saw him. His hair, not a powerful yellow blond, but a somewhat faded platinum blond swiveled gracefully about his beautifully shaped face, the tips just long enough to partially obscure his vision through his ruby red eyes. His eyes matched the color of his thin jacket, not hiding his broad shoulders that fit the proportion of his slender and narrow body perfectly. He had been standing still as she watched, but now he began to walk. Not in her direction, but away at a slight angle. 'Oh sweet merciful gods above..' she thought to herself. 'Look at those hips...' Her admiration of Rock's lower body proceeded along a somewhat predictable path, thighs and butt, her crimson eyes soaking in his features. After she finally settled down, she shrugged it off and returned to sipping her mixed drink.
The place was rowdy and filled with all different kinds of characters, elaborate costumes and quirky personalities all unfolding before Rock's eyes as he made his way around the edge of the room. 'This place is like half bar, half dance club... cool' Rock thought to himself. But his observant reverie was interrupted by an unseen figure that he bumped directly into. Rock stumbled back for a moment before falling onto his butt, hearing a familiar voice.. with a tone of surprise in it. "Wolf cub!?" His red eyes widened in an instant as he looked up at the figure before him. In loose blue jeans that tightened around his thick thighs, a brown leather jacket, and blond hair trimmed to shoulder-length, there stood Terry Bogard. A few spectators that were standing nearby glanced casually at the brief collision, but the entire room fell into dead silence as Rock stood, and the star on his back was visible, the wings as well. Terry had a reputation as the 'Lone Wolf', and the star on his jacket, even his new brown one, was a symbol of his self-proclaimed wolf status. After the vigorous beat-down he had given a gang of teenagers that wore the same patch, no one dared to wear a garment with a five-point star anywhere on it. Terry just stared at Rock with his azure eyes, each of his arms occupied around the waist of a suspiciously young woman. Rock's eyes burned with anger as they glared in return, the muscles in his right arm quivering in their attempts at restraint. "Aren't you a little late to pick me up..?" Rock whispered in a faltering voice. He didn't even know how he did it, but in an instant he had found his way to Terry, his fist, clad in a black leather fingerless glove, lunging at his face. Terry parried this blind thrust with the proficiency of an experienced martial artist, his hand taking a firm grip onto Rock's fist and slamming his knee into his stomach, a second knee to the face sending Rock falling back. "You'll never learn, wolf cub.." A deafeningly loud collective gasp escaping every spectator in the room. "Wow... he's the miburo*..." A few people murmured. "But I thought that was just a legend?" A few people contested. "Who, Rock?" Terry scoffed in the general direction of the voice. "That's no legend, he's just a sad little puppy with nowhere to go." Rock's eyes glowed like coals, only redder, as violently curling flames of bright cyan coated his hands.
"Raising a....."
*hakkyokusaiken: Hah-ki-o-kooh-say-kin. Just run it all together and say it quickly.
*miburo: The Japanese word for 'wolf'.