Warning: AU, Fantasy, PG-13, Ran/Ken eventually (I wouldn't advise holding your breath!).
Author's Note: Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the reviews! Like all authors I just love and appreciate them so much! Well, this is the last section of Part One: Ken. Look out for another member of Weiss making a brief appearance. Please enjoy!
Disclaimer: Weiss belongs to Takehito Koyasu and Project Weiss.
First Born of the Thirteenth House
Part 1: Ken ( c )
Ken didn't see his uncle again for more than a year. He wouldn't have thought it was possible, since they were technically in the same House, but his job below stairs kept him busy all winter and spring. In the summer he was sent out to help bring the wood from the cutting yard to the large storage sheds built between the stables and the House. The wood was brought in as logs and chopped in the yard by men seasonally employed. Once the sheds were full the yard needed to be cleaned and by then it was late fall and the fireplaces were in use again.
Ken clung to his anger and his dreams of revenge, but endless days of hard work and aching muscles began to replace the few memories he had of his former life. By the time he saw his uncle again he was starting to wonder whether it had all been a strange dream, or nightmare. But seeing Chancellor Weston brought it all back as if it had happened the night before, and Ken swore vengeance again and again. He took every opportunity he had to follow the Chancellor and learn his habits, so when the time came he'd be ready.
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For three years his days continued unchanged until one day he was directed to bring wood to the kitchens. The House had three kitchens. They were three long rooms set end to end along the backside of the House on the ground floor. Their tiny windows, set up near the ceilings, looked out on the gardens squeezed between the House and the ravine, but were too high and small for any of the workers to enjoy the views. Each kitchen had four fire places which called for wood nearly twenty-four hours a day. Usually the kitchen hands filled their own wood bins as the first kitchen was convenient to the wood sheds, but the last few years had seen a decline in help. The number of servants was slowly dropping, as was the quality of the new arrivals. The winter Ken turned ten there weren't enough kitchen hands to keep the work up and fill the bins, so Ken was sent there.
He kept the bins filled and didn't bother the workers or steal any of the food being prepared. At the end of the day everyone was well pleased and requested that he be permanently assigned.
Ken himself didn't mind working in the kitchens. All the workers talked and gossiped endlessly. He learned all sorts of things that he hadn't known before. The kitchens were also convenient to almost every other part of the House. Each kitchen had several doors leading either straight to the main hall on the ground floor or directly onto the back stairs. Anytime he wasn't fetching wood or filling bins Ken spent sitting in a corner watching and listening.
One morning Ken awoke early. He'd had the nightmare again. His family on a picnic in a field of golden flowers. No matter how much he yelled or pounded on the glass they never seemed to notice him. He'd tried to find that golden field on the few days he'd had to himself over the years to no avail. The only fields anywhere near the House were plowed by farmers or sharecroppers. None were allowed to grow wild with flowers.
Unable to return to sleep he wandered down to the kitchens to get an early start on the day. The only other servants up were the kitchen keeps, older women who cleaned the kitchens at night so they were spotless for the workers in the morning. For some reason they hadn't finished yet and were still at it.
Ken quietly filled each of the bins by all twelve fire places, and cleaned up the fallen wood chips so the rooms would appear spotless when the first workers came down. Then he moved toward the corner he preferred to sit in to await his breakfast. As he stepped around the end of a bench his foot caught and he tripped. He stumbled forward several steps until he reached the wall and caught himself, but surprisingly, the wall beneath his hands gave way and he crashed to the floor.
Several of the kitchen keeps looked up from their work and snickered. Ken gave them a sour look before refocusing his attention on the wall. It wasn't a wall, but a cleverly concealed door.
Ken glanced around quickly to make sure that no one was watching him and then pushed the door open a bit further. It swung easily and revealed a set of wooden steps descending down into darkness.
A sudden memory came to him, hazy and uncertain. The smell of the kitchen. His head thumping against the footman's back. A flight of narrow wooden stairs that squeaked as they descended.
Ken stared at the steps. Silently he closed the door again and made sure no one saw. He committed its location to memory and then proceeded to his stool to await breakfast. He could hardly wait for nightfall.
In the wee hours of the morning Ken exited his hiding spot on the back stairs and entered the kitchen with the hidden door. The kitchen keeps had finished at their regular time and the last of them had just gone to bed. Silently Ken crept through the dark kitchen over to the nearest fireplace. Using a hot coal he lit a taper and then the lantern he'd borrowed. He easily located the door and it swung open when he pushed on it as he had earlier.
For a moment he paused and stared down the darkened steps. He was afraid of what he might find, but he had to go. Taking a quick look around he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
The air in the staircase was musty and the lantern seemed to dim against the force of the dark. But Ken continued carefully downward. He was determined. All day he'd worked on building his courage up. Logically he knew that neither his uncle nor Weston would venture down here. He already knew they believed everyone had died and he couldn't fathom why they'd want to check on the bodies. But he still tried to be as silent as possible, despite the squeaking of the steps.
The wooden stairs ended in a tiny corridor constructed out of stone blocks. After a few feet the corridor branched and Ken paused to consider the options. His instincts told him to go left and he did after making a mark on the floor with a piece of chalk he'd taken from the menu board. He continued in this manner for sometime, following his instincts and marking his way. At some point he hadn't noticed the stone blocks of the walls and floors had given way to carved stone. He made a mental note and kept going. He was startled when he suddenly found himself stepping out of a short tunnel and onto the large stone step of a wide staircase. He recognized it instantly.
With a shaking hand he brushed the dust from the step and drew an arrow pointing back the way he'd come. Taking a deep breath of the musty air he started down the steps. He went all the way to the bottom, but instead of the chamber there was a wall. It was obviously not as old as the rest, and it was of brick.
"They've gone to get bricks to wall up this chamber."
Ken stood before it and stared. He knew what was beyond it. Reaching out he placed his hand upon its rough surface to make sure it was solid. He leaned forward to rest his cheek against it and felt warm tears fall from his eyes.
"Otosan," he said softly and cried harder. "Otosan!"
He drew back and summoned his anger. He would break this wall. Break it and go to his father. But as he reached for his power something inside him froze. He stopped and blinked in confusion. Why had he stopped? He looked at the wall again. Strange letters grew visible upon its surface. Ken couldn't read them, but they frightened him. Dropping his arms in defeat and resignation they faded from sight and he fell back against the wall, dissolving once again into tears.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been crying there or when he'd sunk down to huddle against the wall, but eventually his tears dried and his sobbing ceased. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized he'd been there too long and needed to get to his bed. Wearily he climbed to his feet and retraced his steps. In the kitchen he replaced the chalk and the lantern before heading up to his pallet in the back attic.
The next day Ken's head felt heavy from lack of sleep and his heart ached. He dragged through his day. Barely keeping the wood supply up. After his evening meal he slunk off to his pallet intent on getting up to explore again, but he slept late and almost missed the start of his duties. He worked hard and stayed on top of things to make up for the day before. The day flew by and that night he was once again crouched on the back stairs waiting for the last kitchen keep to head to bed.
This time he hurried through the tunnels following his marks. This time he went to the brick wall across the steps, turned and started back up the steps keeping his right hand against the wall. When he came to the corridor he felt rather than saw it. It was well hidden. The shadows along the wall just appeared a bit deeper.
Marking the step with an arrow he started down the tunnel. He found his way easily, never hesitating or doubting his direction. When at last he came into the large chamber containing the pit he paused only briefly in the doorway to swallow back the lump that had formed in his throat. Cautiously he approached the pit's edge. Kneeling down he crawled over to peer down into its depths, the feeble light from his lantern hardly cut the darkness. Sighing he sat back.
"Tris," he said. "I finally came back."
Ken sat by the pit and told Tris everything. All he'd seen that night and everything he'd experienced since. He didn't feel foolish, only lonely. The hole that had grown inside him the moment of Tris's death ached. He'd always shared things with Tris and kept no secrets from him. He couldn't remember a time Tris wasn't with him before the boy's death. Tris had even known about Kase.
"Did'ya see him that night, Tris? He was right here. You were right about 'im. Sorry I didn't listen to you."
Ken sighed again then rose and collected his lantern.
"I have to go now, but I'll be back. Promise. Good night, Tris. I miss you."
Turning he exited the cavern.
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Two years passed. Ken continued in the kitchens where he became known as simply "the wood boy". He spent many evenings by the pit talking to Tris, and continued to watch his uncle and Weston whenever he had the opportunity. Early that spring rumors of a terrible epidemic began to surface. Secretly, Ken hoped Weston would catch it and die. He often caught himself snickering over the fantasy and received odd looks from the other staff. But when it was learned the illness only attacked children it became serious for everyone. Ken's uncle sent a party of nobles which included Weston off to the nearest of the other Great Houses to get news and information.
Soon after they'd left one of the noble women who'd been away visiting the First House came flying home with her youngest son and horrifying tales of illness. She and her boy were isolated immediately and anything they'd come into contact with was either scrubbed or burned. People she'd spoken to were sent to the healers. Four days after returning the boy fell ill. The healers were sent for, but seemed unable to do anything. Fear settled on the House.
"They say he's in pain all the time and nothing comforts him," one of the kitchen maids said to another.
"Aye, and no one'll go near 'em. The poor dear's beside herself," the other agreed.
"The whole courts goin'ta feel the loss," said another young maid.
"What do 'ya mean?"
"Well, he's that sweet lad, isn't he? The one wi' the golden voice."
"No," said the first in awe. "Poor lad. The brightest penny here."
"You c'n say that again. Ah, I heard 'im sing once. Like a little bird, poor innocent lamb."
The kitchen maids were silenced when their superior walked over to inspect the dough they were kneading, but Ken had heard enough to peak his curiosity. He'd never taken much interest in the other noble families that occupied the House. His memories of his life above stairs had faded considerably in the seven years he'd been out of it. He had a vague notion that there had been other children around besides himself and Tris, but couldn't recall any faces or names. He wondered about this boy who was favored and who could sing. After a moment's thought though he shrugged and left to get more wood. He concerns were his duties in the kitchens and his future revenge.
However, as the days passed and the boy's condition was reported as worsening, Ken was sent for by the wood master. The older boy who delivered wood to the sick rooms was taken ill and they needed another to do it. Since Ken was familiar with the upper back stairs and was quick with his work he was volunteered. He nodded, went to collect the wood, and started off.
He got as far as the fifth floor apartments before he had to ask directions of a footman. He was led away from the main part of the House and into a little used tower apartment. The whole tower was usually left vacant due to the drafts. That whole corner of the House was right above the cliff face over the ravine. The winds that constantly blew down the ravine behind the House whistled through the tower. It didn't help that the tower walls were mostly windows to take advantage of the views. It was not an ideal location for a sick room, and Ken wondered how the boy wasn't dead.
He quietly entered the apartment and began searching for the fireplaces. The first one he came across was not only out of wood, but had burned out. He wondered where the footman was or the lady's maid. There was no sign of anyone and the footman who'd led him there had vanished almost as soon as they'd reached the tower.
Ken scowled and began unloading his wood. Once done he laid a fire and waited for it to catch before moving onto the next room. There he found a small fire which he built up and then he had to go get more wood. When he returned he went straight to the one remaining room.
When he entered a woman in her middle years looked up in surprise from her position beside the large bed. She appeared pale and her eyes were swollen and red from crying. Ken only paused to bow then went to the fireplace. It was out like the first one had been. As he bent to his work he heard a soft moan from the bed and the woman made a comforting noise.
Ken worked quickly to build up the fire. The room was cold, and he could feel the draft from the curtained windows.
"So, we are not completely abandoned then?" the woman asked softly.
Ken wasn't sure whether she was speaking to him or not, but since there wasn't anyone else present save the sick child he shook his head. The woman apparently took it as a sign. He could hear her long skirts rustling as she came around the bed to stand behind him in the center of the room.
"We haven't seen a soul since last night," she said anxiously. "The boy stopped coming with our wood, and my maid left us and hasn't returned."
Ken was so shocked he dropped a log and almost turned to look at her, but caught himself in time. Carefully, he picked up the log and placed it in the bin.
"This morning there was a knock at the door and a tray of food, but nothing since. Please," she said, her voice edged with desperation, "please tell me...are we forgotten? Have we been abandoned in our hour of need?"
Her words struck a cord in Ken. He felt his heart constrict as he was reminded of his own desperation. How frightened he'd been after he first arrived after the fire. He couldn't leave them to fate as the Tuckers had left him. Sighing resolutely he rose to his feet, and turned to face her. He couldn't meet her eyes, however. He couldn't risk it. So he kept his head bowed. His face hidden by his long hair.
"The boy that was bringing you wood is sick," he said softly. "I don't know where your maid is, but...if you want, I can try 'n find out."
"The boy is ill?" she gasped. "Oh no. Oh, tell me we haven't brought death to this House. You'd best leave us too before you catch it," she said hopelessly, bowing her head. "We are lost."
"Do...do you know what it is?" Ken asked sheepishly.
She sighed and placed a hand to her forehead.
"No one knows," she said. "It began in the Third House and spread from there. When the children of the First House began to show signs we fled, but not soon enough. The healers can't touch it."
Ken could only blink at the floor as the lady dissolved in tears. An illness the healers couldn't heal?
There was a soft moan from the bed. The lady quit her sobbing and returned to her place by the bed. Ken gathered his empty carrier and headed for the door.
"Boy," the lady called softly. "Thank you."
He paused in the door and bowed low. No one had ever thanked him before. When he rose he risked taking a peek at her.
"I'll try to find your maid," he said and left.
When he returned to the kitchen he found himself the topic of an argument between the head of the kitchens and the wood master. They were standing by the door of the first kitchen shouting at one another.
"I don't care if they're all sick 'n dyin'! How dare ya risk our wood boy?! What idiot sends the boy from the kitchens to a sick room? Do ya want it to spread through the whole House?" cried the head of the kitchens. She was a large woman and when her ire was up she was quite intimidating.
"Its already everywhere!" yelled the wood master, his thick mustache bristling.
The kitchen fell silent. Everyone who wasn't already listening to the debate stopped work and focused on the two by the door.
"W-what?" demanded the head of the kitchens.
"Its everywhere," the wood master repeated more quietly. "I've got two more boys down and I've heard from the house keeper that her youngest two girls are abed."
For a moment no one spoke then the kitchen was full of muttering. Ken found himself wrapped in the arms of the head of the kitchens and pressed against her ample bossom.
"How many?" she demanded. "How many so far?"
"Ten total," the wood master said. "I heard from the butler that all told there are some fifty children here."
"Fifty," muttered the large woman and her arms tightened around Ken. "Is there naught can be done?"
"The butler heard from his cousin, serves the Fourth House. She said it doesn't attack anyone fifteen years or older. Just the young 'uns."
The head of the kitchens thrust Ken away from her and shook him.
"Quick, boy, how old are ya?!" she demanded.
"Twelve," he answered and tried to pull free before she could hug him again. He wasn't quick enough and once again found himself buried in her chest.
"Only twelve," she gasped.
"Let the boy go, Cyn. He can't breath!" the wood master commanded pulling Ken free. "How do ya feel, boy?"
"Fine," Ken answered stoutly. "I won't get sick."
The wood master patted his head, but he looked far from convinced.
"Do you think you can handle the kitchens and the sick rooms?"
"Yes," Ken answered. "But...well, the lady, she said her maid left. They have no one to keep their fires up or to fetch and carry for them."
The wood master exchanged a sour look with the head of the kitchens.
"I'll speak to the butler and house keeper. Just you keep the wood bins full, and if you feel the littlest bit strange tell me right off," the wood master commanded.
Ken nodded and returned to his duties. The rest of the day continued as usual with the exception of his visits to the sick room. He made four more deliveries of wood there. On his first one he took the liberty of informing the lady that his master was to inquire about her maid. She was most grateful, but they didn't speak again. By his last visit a maid was present and laying out their dinner.
Ken ended his day with a wish for good health from the head of the kitchens. Her surprising reaction to the idea of his getting sick had stayed with him and he wondered what her motive was. One thing he had learned was that no one did anything without expecting something in return. She probably didn't want to have to train another wood boy. With a shrug he headed down to the pit.
He'd learned that there was a space of a half an hour or so at the end of the day where the kitchen staff retired and the kitchen keeps came on. If he waited around after dinner he could slip into the hidden staircase unnoticed. He'd even taken to keeping a lantern at the foot of the wooden stairs so he wouldn't have to worry about borrowing one.
"So, this illness has everyone spooked," he told Tris, summing up the day's events. "Three more children got sick before supper and the rest are confined to their rooms. Even I'm s'posed to be in bed."
He paused, frowning.
"I dun' know, Tris. I guess I could try m' magic, but what if someone cn' sense it? What if I get caught?" he frowned and hung his head. "I'm still too small to take revenge. What if I use magic but it doesn't work, and then I get caught?"
He sighed.
"Well, I guess I'll sleep on it. 'Night, Tris."
But when he went to move he found he couldn't. His legs had stiffened to the point of pain and a wave of dizziness swept over him.
Ken gasped in pain and panic. He'd caught the illness. He was sick and no one knew where he was. He'd die alone in the dark like Tris! He'd...!
Ken shook his head and tried to think straight. He'd have to use his magic and heal himself. Even if just enough so he could move. He had no other choice.
Taking a deep breath he reached down inside himself. The power was there instantly. Leaping to meet his call like an eager puppy. He cast the healing spell but was surprised when nothing happened. Why hadn't it worked?
Ken shut his eyes and examined himself. If he used a bit of magic to help him see what would it do? His vision became sharp, revealing layers of light all around and in him he'd never been aware of. Looking down at his legs he saw dark bands of shadow encircling them. They were woven together in an intricate web. Every time he moved they constricted causing a sharp burning pain. Ken tried breaking one. The result was immediate. The others grew thicker and tightened causing him to cry out, and another wave of dizziness washed over him.
Breathing heavily against the effects of the first attempt Ken looked again. After a moment he saw that the shadowy bands formed a pattern and he could trace them to its heart. Once he found it he braced himself then broke it. There was a loud pop inside his ears and a flash of white behind his eyes. When his vision cleared he saw he was free. The bands were gone and he could move without pain.
Ken jumped to his feet and raced from the chamber. He pounded up the stairs barely remembering to douse his lantern and hide it. He slipped through the hidden door and dashed into the nearest entrance to the back stairs.
Now that he knew what they were feeling, now that he knew what to do, he had to act. He ran all the way to the fifth floor and slipped quietly into the sick rooms in the tower apartment.
They were dark and silent. The maid had seen to it that the Lady was put to bed and the boy was alone in the large bedroom. Ken crept silently to the bed. The figure in it was smaller than him. His pale face had a sheen of sweat over it which plastered down his blond bangs. The boy's breathing was shallow.
Ken took a fortifying breath and looked at the boy using his magic. The boy was almost covered in the tight bands of shadow. They wrapped him from head to toe and were slowly squeezing tighter and tighter. They were so thick their pattern was almost indiscernible. Ken bit his lip remembering what happened to his legs when he broke one band. If he didn't find the heart, if he guessed wrong, this boy would die.
The small figure in the bed whimpered. A tiny sound only a fraction of the volume of his moans made earlier that day. Ken realized he didn't have a lot of time. Gently he rested his hands on the boy's chest hoping to be able to feel or see through the layers of shadow. Finally, after several long minutes he thought he had it. He checked and double checked to be sure. Then with a deep breath he broke it.
The pop in his ears and the flash of white were much louder and brighter than they had been for him. Ken found himself sitting on the floor beside the bed and rubbed his soar rump. Gingerly he climbed back to his feet and looked at the boy in the bed.
He appeared to be breathing easier and the tension in his face had cleared. Ken looked at him using magic and could find no traces of the shadows. He heaved a sigh of relief and let his head drop onto the bed covers. Suddenly he felt very tired. When he raised his head he met the bluest eyes he'd ever seen.
"Who are you?" asked the boy in a soft musical voice.
Ken back pedaled away from the bed as if he'd been burned. He turned and ran for the door.
"Wait," called the boy sitting up. "I won't tell anyone."
But Ken flung himself out of the room and dashed into the nearest entrance to the back stairs he could find. There he paused to gulp some air before wearily climbing up to the back attic rooms where he collapsed exhausted onto his pallet.
Three nights later as Ken made his way across one end of the gallery to another so he could approach the latest sickrooms from a service staircase he spotted someone leaving his uncle's offices. It was too late for there to be anyone about on official business. Normally he wouldn't have paid any heed but something about the man seemed oddly familiar, and he paused in a shadow to watch him.
As the man moved under one of the low burning oil lamps along the wall his face became visible for an instant and Ken felt an almost physical jolt. It was the man who'd thrown Tris into the pit. The man who'd killed his best friend.
He was seized with an undeniable rage. Almost blind with fury he tracked the man's movements along the hallway toward the grand staircase. Ken got there first, leaving all but one piece of wood behind in the service stairs.
Remaining in the shadows of a hanging tapestry he dropped the log in the shadows of the second step down, and hid behind the edge of the tapestry, waiting. The man approached the stairs completely unaware and began to descend. As he stepped onto the log he lost his balance and began to pitch forward, arms flailing, but curiously silent. As he fell past him Ken stepped from behind the tapestry and kicked him hard in the back, ensuring he wouldn't recover and prevent his fall. The man tumbled down the stairs coming to a sudden and jarring halt at the bottom.
Ken quickly retrieved his log and dashed for the hidden staircase just as a guard came around the corner at the foot of the stairs and noticed the sprawled figure. By the time the alarm was raised Ken was safely on his way to another sickroom.
The stranger died instantly, and his death was reported to be an unfortunate accident. What he was doing at the Great House was never fully understood. But his sudden appearance and demise had an unforseen effect on Chancellor Weston. Afterwards he hired private guards and never was seen outside his rooms without them.
Over the course of the next two weeks Ken did his duties in the kitchen during the day, and snuck through the House by night. The morning after he'd healed himself and the boy he found the wood boy who's duty was the sick room and healed him so he wouldn't have to go back. He healed each sick child in turn, none of them becoming as severe as the first boy, and when all fifty had had the dread illness and recovered all traces of it vanished from the House. By the time Weston returned with news from the other Houses it was all over with no one the wiser. The children spoke of a mysterious angel who came in the night, the adults thanked the late Lord Hidaka and the gods, and the clerics happily reported an increase in the attendance at church.
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Author's Note: I'm sure the idea of Ken, or any child, killing for revenge will have everyone up in arms, and I myself do not believe killing for any reason is justifiable. However, from the point of view of the story he is a son seeking revenge for the murder of his family in a society where such an act is not only reasonable but expected, regardless of age. I apologize for giving everyone the chills or turning your stomachs (if I did), but I had to be true to my muse. (And that's my husbands second favorite part!) Thanks for reading and please review!
Precognition74: Sorry its confusing. I was worried about that, but I didn't want to just hand everything over on a plate. Then it'd be boring, right? Ken, and his family, were all taken from their beds. There was a group of assassins. Yes, he does have other powers besides healing. The magic is sort of just there and he can use it almost any way he wants to. He just learned the healing first because of his mother's pricked finger. Thanks for reading! :)
Elfgoddess00: Yay! I wasn't sure you'd have time to read it yet so your review was a pleasant surprise. I'm glad you're hooked already! Thanks for reading! :)
elizanicolequinzi: (Did I spell that right?) Yay! I'm glad you like it. I like new things to read regularly too. I wish there were more Ran/Ken authors out there. I know my chapter titles suck, but that's because this story wasn't written in chapters. It was written in parts and I just broke them up into chapters by counting out 22 hand written pages. So, really they should be read in the whole parts, but the other parts are too long to post all at once. Yeah, think of them as "mysterious and alluring"...I like that. Thanks for reading! :)
Mondtanz: Yay! I'm so glad you're liking it! I haven't read "The Still". Who wrote it? I like to read fantasy, but I'm pretty picky so I don't read it much. I mostly read mysteries, biographies, and some non-fiction books, but mostly fanfiction! Hmmm...will Ken meet the Tuckers again? Not sure yet. I think the Tuckers were thinking that since the fire sent Ken back to the House then his fate was calling him there. I print stuff to read at work too! Thanks for reading! :)
Akimoto Kin: Heh-heh-heh. Yeah, its thickening. Good job Ken's in the kitchen. ;P I feel sorry for him too, but he doesn't really feel sorry for himself. He's just really angry. He really needs to move past that. Well, I was trying to use an older mode of speech since the setting very feudal, but as always I let it go when our boys are together. To an extent anyway. But I like how Ken talks! Thanks for reading! :)
Seph Lorraine: Heh! Brilliant? I hope so...we'll see. Yay! I'm glad you're so excited. I was processing books at work and I already had the gist of the plot when a book crossed my path that gave me a definite idea. Bam! That was it. Funny how we get inspired isn't it? It can literally be anything. Aww, you're so sweet. blush So far I think I do have Ken down pretty good. It's the later parts that I've had to rewrite. Every time I get him together with Ran (even platonically) I tend to write him much sweeter than I think he really is. But I'll keep trying! Thanks for reading! (And I spied on your LJ and I agree, I wish I could be a Y/A too fan but its just not possible for me.) :)
Chitoshiya no Tohma: Umm, actually...I did no research for this fic. I just made everything up. The whole thing. I needed a break from research. Yeah, I thought that would be interesting, but it is a little sad. My concern, which I didn't address in the story, was would he remember his true name? Possibly not if he was too little, but I decided not to go there. You're welcome! I'll try to make sure a chapter goes up every Monday. Thanks for reading! :)
Makami: Thank you. I like your stuff too! I'm glad you like the plot so far. Hopefully it'll just get more interesting. crosses fingers Yes, you may put this up as well. Do you want me to fix it for you or are you all set? Thanks for reading! :)
Ranny Boy: Hee-hee-hee! Well, there was a little action for you in this part. How was that? Want more? Coming right up next time! Yay! I'm glad you're all excited! Thanks for reading! :)
Celeste1: Thank you. I'm glad you liked them. I hope this one didn't disappoint. Thanks for reading! :)
Allis: Yay! You're back! Yay! You like it! I'm so happy. Expect the rest of the gang to be coming soon. Two in the next chapter and the fourth...ummm...a chapter or two after that. He has to make a grand entrance. Schwarz? Umm, no, sorry. cringe I'm afraid to write them!!! Thanks for reading! :)
