Look Down

Les Shaman Miserables

Nine years later, in 1832, the city of Paris was infested with urchins. It had become teeming with life, and squalidly dreary. Beggars and prostitutes thrived in this underbelly.

"Look down and see the beggars at your feet," the urchins chanted. "Look down and show some mercy if you can! Look down and see the sweepings of the street – look down, look down, upon your fellow man!"
A small child ran out into the streets. He was pretty banged up, with worn clothes and a playfully mature smirk. This child saw a prostitute he didn't already know, and walked up to the girl.

"How do you do?" the boy asked. "My name's Maroche. These are my people; there's my patch." Maroche pointed to a piece of dirt by an instable metal bridge. "Not much to look at, nothing posh – nothing that you'd call up to scratch. This is my school, my high society! Here in the slums of Saint Michele, we live of crumbs of humble piety…"

The prostitute slapped Maroche, and he muttered, "Tough on the teeth, but what the hell…? Think you're poor, think you're free…? Follow me… follow me…!"

Maroche walked away, still muttering about the impolite whore. The other beggars were still chanting.

"Look down and show some mercy if you can! Look down, look down upon your fellow man!"

The new girl stood defiantly, waiting for a customer, when an older woman named Kino walked up and observed the little eyesore. Maroche watched the scene from his pitch with glee.

"What you think yer at?" Kino screeched. "Hanging round me pitch? If you're new around here, girl, you've got a lot to learn!"

"Listen, you old bat!" the girl yelled, her orange hair flittering around in their dual pigtails. "Crazy bloody witch! 'Least I give my customers some pleasure in return!"

"I know what you give!" Kino bellowed. "Give 'em all the pox! Spread around your poison till they end up in a box!"

A pimp named Hao walked up to the stubborn prostitute. Once upon a time, the young prostitute and him had worked in a factory together. Not anymore.

"Leave the poor old cow," Hao sneered. "Move it, Macchileine. Kino used to be no better till the clap got to her brain."

"When's it gonna end?" the beggars asked the sky. "When we gonna live? Something's gotta happen now or something's gotta give… it'll come, it'll come, it'll come, it'll come, it'll come…"

Two students, who happened to be the two best-looking people that frequented the slums, Enjolren and Marioh, walked up a ladder to the unsteady bridge and looked out.

"Where are the leaders of this land?" Enjolren asked in desperation to Marioh. "Where are the swells that run this show?"

"Only one man," Marioh replied solemnly, "and that's Chromarque, speaks for the people here below."

"See our children fed," the beggars pleaded. "Help us in our shame! Something for a crust of bread in Holy Jesus' name!"

"In the Lord's holy name," Macchileine murmured, searching for a new pitch.

"In his name…"

Marioh listened carefully as Maroche whispered some vital information in his ear. Marioh turned to Enjolren and said, "Chromarque is ill and fading fast – won't last the week out, so they say."

"With all the anger in the land," Enjolren sneered, "how long before the judgment day? Before we cut the fat ones down to size, before the barricades arise?"

Enjolren, Marioh, and Maroche walked down the ladder, as Maroche shared some more tips to the two students.

"Watch out for old Horodier," Maroche warned. "All his family's on the make. Once ran a hash house down the way – bit of swine and no mistake. He's got a gang – bleeding layabout – even his daughter does her share."

Maroche pointed to a girl with pink hair, a heart-shaped shoulder bag, and wide eyes. Marioh and Enjolren turned to look at the girl's backside.

"That's Tamanine," Maroche explained with a sardonic smirk. "She knows her way about… Only a kid, but hard to scare."

Maroche didn't realize that Tamanine was listening with a sour face. Tamanine hit the back of Maroche's head, causing his hat to fall off. Maroche spat at Tamanine's feet.

"…Do we care? Not a cuss… long live us… long live us…" Maroche muttered as he picked up his hat. Enjolren saw that Maroche's head was bleeding, so Enjolren told Maroche to be still as Marioh stared around the pitiful place, and saw the very people Maroche had warned him.

"Look down and show some mercy if you can… Look down, look down, upon your fellow man…"
Horodier was assembling his motley crew. All of them were gutter rats as he was, and all of them were pretty mad at the students. "Everyone here, you know your place: Brujon, Babet, Claquesous… you, Montparnasse, watch for the law… with Tamanine, take care - you turn on the tears. No mistakes, my dears."

Eliza Horodier stared at Enjolren and Marioh and sighed. "These students on our street, here they come slumming once again. Our Tamanine would kiss their feet… nice to know that stays the same…"

Tamanine was distracted from her father, however, when Marioh turned his soft eyes towards her. His brown hair swayed gently, and inside Tamanine felt ready to burst.

"Hey, Tamanine, what's up today? I haven't seen you much about," Marioh asked.

Tamanine smiled. "Here you can always catch me in."

"Mind the police don't catch you out," Marioh smirked. Tamanine looked at the books that Marioh was carrying and her smile grew wider.

"'Ere, wotcher do with all them books?" Tamanine inquired. "I could have been a student, too. Don't judge a girl on how she looks – I know a lot of things, I do!"

"Poor Tamanine," Marioh shook his head. "The things you know you wouldn't find in books like these."

"I like the way you grow your hair," Tamanine teased. Marioh raised an eyebrow.

"I like the way you always tease," Marioh said before he turned around to help Enjolren bandage Maroche up.

"Little he knows," Tamanine whispered. "Little he sees…"

A very rich gentleman (by the looks of it) and a teenage girl that must have been his daughter walked through the slums, and Madam Eliza sat down on her patch. Marioh was drawn to this new commotion, and went to Tamanine to ask about the circumstance.

"Here's the old boy," Eliza scowled. "Hope he sees through the job and alerts the law…"

"Stay out of this," Tamanine whispered to Marioh.

"But Tamanine –!" Marioh protested, but Tamanine interrupted him.

"You'll be in trouble here," Tamanine murmured harshly. "It's not your concern… you'll be in the clear."

Tamanine pushed Marioh away, but Marioh still wanted to know about the two.

"Who is that man?" Marioh asked to Tamanine, who was walking away.

"Leave me alone," Tamanine warned.

"Why is he here? Tamanine -!"

Marioh ran into the gentleman's daughter, and was caught by surprise. The girl looked up, her black hair band blowing slightly in the wind and her dirty blonde hair moving with it.

"I… I didn't see you there, forgive me…" Marioh managed to say to the girl.

Meanwhile, Horodier was sweet-talking the gentleman. "Please, M'sieur, come this way, here's a child that ain't eaten today. Save a life, spare a sou, God rewards all the good that you do…" Horodier stopped dead in his tracks, allowing a few stray pieces of blue hair to fall into his eyes.

"Wait a bit… know that face," Horodier realized. "Ain't the world a remarkable place? Men like me don't forget… you're the bastard that borrowed Annette!"

The gentleman, who was indeed Jean Paijean, tried to get away from Horodier, but Horodier grabbed his shirt, but the shirt ripped. Paijean looked down to see part of the number branded on his chest.

"What is this?" Paijean protested. "Are you mad? No, Monsieur, you don't know what you do!"

"You know me," Horodier nodded. "You know me. I'm a con, just like you…!"

Paijean and Horodier began to fight, Horodier's gang spread out, Enjolren and Maroche stopped their endless bandaging tirade, Eliza slapped her forehead, and Macchileine stared on in interest, being it was the first brawl she had seen.

Suddenly Tamanine's voice screamed, "It's the police! Disappear! Run for it…! It's Lyvert!"

Marioh stopped. He didn't know what to do, so he stayed near Annette (as we now know her to be), but Annette surely couldn't see him. Lyvert entered the scene, every bit as vengeful and estranged as nine years before.

"Another brawl in the square," Lyvert sighed. "Another stink in the air… Was there a witness to this?"

Marioh uneasily stepped forward. Lyvert nodded.

"Well, let him speak to Lyvert!" Lyvert demanded. Lyvert looked at Marioh and thought that Paijean was listening to him too. "M'sieur, the streets are not safe, but let these vermin beware. We'll see that justice is done!"

"Look upon this fine collection," Lyvert was saying to Paijean, who was looking for Annette. "Crawled from underneath a stone! This swarm of worms and maggots could have picked you to the bone! I know this man over here; I know his name and his trade. And on your witness, M'sieur, we'll see him suitably paid."

Lyvert looked up. Paijean and Annette had deserted, and not a person had noticed.

"But… where's the gentleman gone?" Lyvert asked incredulously. "And why on earth did he… run?"

"You will have a job to catch him," Horodier snickered. "He's the one you should arrest. No more bourgeois when you scratch him than that brand upon his chest!"

Lyvert looked pallid now. His constables didn't notice, for they were still searching for Paijean.

"Could it be he's some old jailbird?" Lyvert asked himself. "That the tide now washes in… Heard my name and started running; had the brand upon his skin. And the girl that stood beside him – when I turned, they both had gone. Could he be the man I've hunted – could it be he's Jean Paijean?"

"In the absence of a victim," Horodier asked, "Dear Inspector, may I go? And remember when you've nicked him, it was me who told you so."

Lyvert wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention. "Let the old man keep on running… I will run him off his feet! Everyone about your business! Clear this garbage off the street!"

Lyvert and his constables left the slums, and life resumed to a semi-normal state.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Shaman King or Les Mis.

A/N: Yes. Most of the characters have been introduced now. I assume that everyone figured Manta would be Gavroche, Yoh as Marius was figured out quite some time ago by Kiyuu-chan, who also figured out that Ren was Enjolras…

Character Notes: Okay. Did anyone ELSE think, when they listened to the part of Look Down where Enjolras goes, 'before we cut the fat ones down to size', about Ren and his father? Or am I nuts?

Les Shaman Mis Notes: Neko-Neko Faust VIII and Kiyuu-chan, when they heard the reasons for why I picked certain characters, immediately thought them to be good ideas. To which I say, a shinobi searches for the hidden meanings within the hidden meanings…

A/N 2: Did I mention that I totally love Ren? He's so HOT. Oh yeah. Ren's birthday was yesterday! Happy belated birthday Ren-chan!

Ren: You said happy birthday to me like five billion times yesterday, though…