Note: All Suikoden elements belong to Konami.
Author's note: Well, here's the ninth chapter…I have absolutely no idea what to do with this, so I'm hoping this first draft will turn out OK.
BY THE WAY: So everyone won't be confused, this next chapter takes place a few weeks after Sierra's talk with Jeane…it's mentioned within the chapter, but when I reread I thought it might be a little hard to pick out.
Rebirth
Chapter 9: Keepsake
by ArchFaith
Things could almost be considered normal now.
Except for…His mind trailed as he opened his sluggish azure eyes to the scorching desert morning.
How he had survived the Calerian seasons were a mystery to him; to go from the warm, temperate climate of his beloved Crystal Valley to this dry, melting heat was quite a change; and even though he been living in Caleria for quite some time, the change from the dry, arid spring to the humid, boiling summer never failed to induce in him a deep, desperate restlessness for home.
Turning to his right, he swiftly observed the silver-haired vampire next to him, still fitfully sleeping. Sometimes, on days like this, she would sleep all day and only rise at night, when she knew the temperatures would be slightly lower than the day. Or else she would go without sleep for days on end, reading obscure magic books or merely taking strolls around the city, all done without an uttering of a syllable.
She was hard to understand, true—but he understood her. To understand meant to bid her goodbye when she disappeared for a few hours, to take her out with him whenever they went shopping, to force her to eat some kind of human food when she adamantly refused, to kiss her closed eyelids before they made love.
He understood.
And in return, she told him everything—childhood stories, episodes from her time with the one hundred and eight stars, even the scintillating conversation with Jeane which had occurred a few weeks back.
Heh, you're lucky, old girl…I wish I could have kissed those lips just once.
Heh…a mouth is just what it sounds like…a mouth.
The child had temporarily been forgotten; other than their few veiled allusions to it, things were just as they were when Sierra had been living with him six months ago—argumentative, frustrating, and full of distraction. It was as if she were not pregnant at all, in fact; her body still retained its slender shape, and the pains she had been experiencing within her stomach had greatly abated, so much to the point that she no longer complained at all. Perhaps this whole thing is a freak of nature; maybe there really is no child, he often thought. But no; he quickly corrected himself. The voice. That small, innocent little voice…it was unwise on both their parts, to keep this little dilemma of theirs quiet for so long. They had never seriously talked of it since Sierra's discussion with Jeane…looking back on it, he was sure it had been the wrong decision.
His thoughts were suddenly cut short as a cat-like yawn sounded in his ear. Turning over, he caught a gleam of her sharp eyeteeth as she opened her ruby eyes to his, her pale face neutral as she twisted to face him. She looked small and slender, curled up in one of his old shirts, the cuffs barely reaching over her white wrists.
"It is very warm," she commented, her voice unusually dull sounding.
He gave her a gentle smile. "Did you forget how hot it is in Caleria during the summer?"
"No," she answered matter-of-factly. "I just wished to reiterate." She stretched her arms out towards her white legs, yawning once again as she slowly sat up, her eyes still anchored to his. "Mmmm," she mumbled, testing out her legs. "I suppose you will want me to eat some kind of breakfast, is that correct?"
"You know it," he answered, quickly rising from the bed. The loose brown pants he wore to bed clung to his thighs as he rose, stretching in the scorching sun as he took a brief look out the window. "It's a holiday today, you know."
"Oh?" she asked indifferently, looking around the room to locate the blue dress she now wore so often. "What kind of holiday is it?"
Smiling, he turned around and swiftly crossed the room, going over the small night table which stood next to the unmade bed. A small package stood upon the table, next to the oil lamp; it was a rectangular box bound in coarse brown fabric, tied with a red string. A frown was spread over her face as he quickly picked it up and turned to her with a grin.
"Here," he whispered, delivering the box into her hands.
"What is it?" she asked, as she gently shook the contents, turning the package over in her fingers. "When you brought it home last night you told me it was just another box of snake frog liver."
"And you believed me," he laughed, sitting down on the bed next to her. "C'mon, old girl, since when does snake frog liver come wrapped as nicely as that?" He playfully smoothed the blonde strands out of his eyes as he laid one hand on her arm. "Open it."
Giving him a suspicious look, the vampire slowly untied the small stringy bow, letting the red thread drop to the ground as she slowly unwrapped the box from its trappings. She unceremoniously tossed the brown fabric into Nash's lap as she observed the small paper box. "I hope this is something useful," she groaned as she took the lid off.
The lid clattered to the floor as her ruby eyes suddenly grew wide. Trembling hands rapidly reached into the box and pulled out the small, uncalled-for present.
It was a delicate little comb, carved from fine white ivory, its teeth and handle smooth to the touch. Intricate designs graced its wide handle, beautifully fashioned patterns of skill and elegance; suns, stars, and moons were traced around the edges, framed by a small vine blossoming with tiny roses. Miniscule, almost indecipherable writing was printed in a corner, curvy lines reading "Falena".
"This…" she began, her voice trailing as her traced her fingers over the elaborate carvings. "Why…it is beautiful."
"I thought you would like it," he said simply, sliding closer to her. She immediately glanced at him.
"But what is the occasion, that I should receive such a fine gift?" she questioned, looking into his eyes even as grasped the comb tightly in her hands.
He shook his head slightly in amusement. "Well, I guess even you forgot." He smiled and placed a tanned hand on her shoulder. "You told me a few weeks ago, remember?"
"What?" she answered. "What did I tell you?"
He tenderly squeezed her shoulder. "Today's your birthday, old girl."
Birthday?
The word resonated into her head like glass shattering onto a hard, wooden floor; small, distant memories suddenly seemed to come through to the surface as she let herself lean against him, glancing up into his calm face, then tightly shutting her eyes in remembrance.
My birthday.
(-)
A small, blonde girl was running energetically through a thickly wooded glen, her wispy blonde hair tied with pink ribbons, a white play dress adorning her thin, lithe body. In her arms she carried a tiny doll, wearing a red cotton dress with brown yarn for hair. The girl stopped suddenly, clutching the doll close to her as she gently swayed back and forth.
"Sierra!" A voice called through the pathway. "Come home! You'll miss your party!"
The girl was older now; instead of a little girl she was a young maiden, almost close to marriageable age. She was sitting under a tree, leafing through a new edition of a book her father had brought her all the way from one of the big trading cities where he often did business. It was a book about the legendary twenty-seven true runes…the Rune of Change, the Gate Rune, the Rune of Life and Death…
"Sierra…"
It was a horrific sight to behold; the girl's fair blonde hair had turned to ashen silver, and her normally tanned skin had become deathly white. The people…her mother, her father, her brothers and sisters…they all believed her to be a monster. Crouching in the middle of the village square, bloody tears trailing down her cheeks, she looked on in horror as the people surrounded her, pitchforks and swords in their calloused, farmers' hands. She didn't want any harm to come to them; she could not allow it! Yet the newly settled rune inside her wanted vengeance; and try as hard as she did to stifle it, it only pushed through her will, bringing hatred and destruction and despair.
It was the day before her seventeenth birthday.
(-)
"It was my birthday," she whispered absently as she suddenly became aware of her surroundings; the strong, firm arms enfolding her, the annoying pieces of blonde hair brushing into her eyes as Nash leaned closer to her, his forehead almost touching hers.
"Snap out of it," he said, patting her arm. "C'mon, Sierra…"
She blinked up at him, frowning. "I apologize," she said as she gently pushed his arms away. She slowly sat up, placing a white hand to her face as she slowly turned to her companion. "All I have is remembrances of years past…all the birthdays I spent with my family back in the village…" her voice trailed as she shook her head in self-deprecation. She looked down at the ivory comb she still grasped between her thin fingers. "This…this is the first present I've received since…gods, I cannot remember." Lowering her eyes to the floor, she whispered a solemn "Thank you."
The boy was smiling again; he always smiled, in good times and bad. Giving her a part on the back, he whispered, "You're welcome."
Turning to him, she gently slipped the comb into his fingers. "Will you comb my hair?" she asked, her brilliant ruby eyes giving off a wondering, almost good-natured look.
"Sure," he said, taking the comb and adjusting her so that she sat in front of her, the back of her head facing his observant eyes. Slowly he ran his fingers through her slightly tangled silver locks, taking wispy pieces in his fingers as he lowered his eyes. Somehow, he knew he didn't matter whether or not he did a good job; somehow, he knew she didn't care.
As the teeth of the comb danced through her pale tresses, a surge of guilt suddenly welled up beneath her heart. This boy was sweet to her, kind to her—many things. Of course she always taunted him, ridiculed him, and teased him, but in the end…he understood. If she spoke to any other person as she did to him she would surely be loathed and disliked; but somehow, this boy had taken the sting of her words and interpreted them as good. He had allowed her to come back to him, he had allowed her to stay with him for weeks as his permanent guest; he had even argued with her about this mysterious child, this being that was growing inside that was apparently both his and hers. And still, though she had been induced to tell him many things, there was still one decision she had kept secret. But it could not be a secret any longer.
"Nash," she began, as he started work on the left side of her head, "there is something I must speak to you about."
"What is it?" he asked, letting his fingers weave their way through her soft, beautiful hair.
She took a deep breath, the feelings of shame and embarrassment once again flowing through her veins. "It…it is about the child."
He said nothing, but momentarily paused in surprise. The child had been almost unspoken of; other than their occasional discussions about whether it would be a boy or girl, and his vain attempts to make her digest human food, the child was never talked about at all. Truth be told, both of them had pushed the subject out of their minds; an extremely unwise tactic, truth be told. The error of their little lie was rapidly becoming clear to them, and regret began to flood through both their systems at once.
"Nash…we have not really discussed what will happen when this child is born…if it is a child," she quickly added, drawing her breath in and out.
He suddenly didn't like where the conversation was going. Her nervous breathing, the tones of her voice—all too familiar.
"You see…I…I do not know if I am capable of being a mother," she continued, involuntarily bringing a hand over her heart. "And you are very young yet…too young to be a father, I think." She knew he was catching her drift; the comb's grip on her hair was getting lighter and lighter, and he now had one hand upon her slender shoulder.
"So…I have been thinking over the last few weeks….perhaps when this child is born, we shall determine why exactly it has come into existence." She turned around to face him. "Do you agree?"
He nodded. "Of course." But of course there was something more to her speech. "And afterwards…"
"Well…afterwards, I think it would be best if—"
She automatically gasped, placing her hands on her stomach as she cringed in absolute terror, her widened ruby eyes immediately locking to his for support.
"Ah…oh gods…not again…"
Both his hands were on her shoulders now, and in a moment she was pulled into his arms, still shaking and trembling as her insides seemed to shift like the plates of an earthquake. She felt like she was bleeding inside; bleeding, breaking, being destroyed from the inside, like an enormous fist had suddenly pummeled her, boring a hole within her pale body.
"Nash!" she exclaimed, rapidly forgetting what exactly she had wanted to relate to him. Her hands were spread over her chest, her head resting on his shoulder as he tightly squeezed her, bloody tears starting to pool at the base of her eyelids.
"This…pain, it is…I think…ah…"
He quickly let her go, observing the anguished look on her face as he smoothed her silver hair away from her now damp forehead. "Do you think…?"
She weakly nodded.
He wasted no time; rapidly he undressed her, unbuttoning her large white shirt and sliding it off her pale body; she did not complain, and hardly even said a word as he gently pushed her down onto the bed, tucking the sheets tight around her as the red tears began to stream down her face. "I'll be right back," he whispered, reaching down to give her a light kiss on the forehead.
He nearly ran out of the bedroom, hurriedly looking around as he tried to catch a glimpse of a telltale red feather. "Dominguez!" he cried out in alarm, his heart beginning to pound as he eyed the empty box, seeing no trace of the bird out in the living room. "Dominguez?"
To his immense relief, the bird rapidly emerged from behind the sofa, where he had been preening his ruffled feathers. Cocking his head, he opened his wings and swiftly flew to land on Nash's shoulder, the faithful, obedient partner.
"What is it, Master?"
"Dominguez, listen carefully," Nash instructed, quickly going to the window. "I want you to go to headquarters to find Wang…I mean, Joker. Or whatever name he goes by." He swiftly opened the pane on the window, and the small red bird hopped onto the sill. "Tell him that I need him here right now. Tell him Sierra's going into labor…ask him to bring anything he thinks will help. But just tell him to hurry."
Dominguez sourly looked over to the open bedroom door, where a slight crying sound could now be heard coming from the messy bed. "Yes, Master," he replied, opening his wings and swooping off on the hot breeze, rising high into the sky above as Nash shut the window, his heart now feeling as though it would burst.
"Sierra," he called as he ran back into the bedroom. She was curled up in a fetal position under the sheets, her hands still caressing the small spot inside her stomach where the source of pain seemed to be coming from. She looked up at him, her breaths coming in fast and low; her eyes looked wild, and immediately sat down next to her, smoothing the hair out of her eyes as she closed them in absolute agony.
"Don't worry, old girl," he said, doing his best to calm her as another wave of anguish racked through her; she squeezed her eyes shut, feeling as though her stomach would split open any minute. "Someone's coming to help soon…hang in there for just a little while longer."
Despite the pain emanating from inside, a calm whisper sounded from her lips. "Nash…this child…I…I do not if know if—"
"Shhh," he replied, squeezing her shoulder tenderly. "Don't talk…save your energy. You're going to need it."
I should tell him my decision, a small voice inside her said, guilty and secretive as it echoed through the walls of her mind. It would not be fair to tell him afterwards…The voice persisted, but she quickly managed to push it away. No…I will be silent.
She nodded. "Alright," she agreed as another wave of pain slowly crushed into her, causing the bloody tears to flow once more down her cheek.
(-)
It was only two hours.
But to her, it was an eternity.
Sometimes the pain would lessen, to her immense relief. The angry churning inside her would minimize into small ripples, and she could temporarily sit up, breathe without her heart pounding, drink the small cups of water Nash brought to her, no matter how disgusting the liquid tasted to her tongue. But these small islands of respite were always short-lived; in a moment she would sink down onto the damp mattress once more, crying, quietly whimpering in pain.
It was humiliating to her that she be seen in this horrible position; that she had no control over her tears, over her cries, even over Nash's comforting gestures. She, the great and powerful vampire Sierra Mikain—now reduced to a miserable, tormented woman awaiting the birth of…something. She mentally cursed the being that grew within her now, and almost wished for it to be some kind of demon so that she could destroy it when it emerged. For causing her so much anguish, for making her look so vulnerable…any being that did these things was surely malevolent.
He was always at her side, only leaving momentarily to retrieve cups of water from the kitchen, and to anxiously check the clock whenever he passed by the living room. One hour…one hour and a half…what could be taking so long? Dominguez surely would have found Joker by now—but then again…he had not considered the fact that his friend might have been placed on a field mission, since the last time they had spoken had been when Joker had informed him that Sierra was pregnant.
And if he was gone…what in the world was to be done then?
His nerves had almost eaten him alive as he sat there, next to the ill vampire, holding her hand and patting her shoulder at regular intervals. Even in this weak state he could sense the immense power visible in her shining ruby eyes; every time she looked up at him he was reminded of her powers; her vision, her hearing, her strength. He knew how she felt; she was greatly embarrassed. But he did nothing to tell her otherwise; surely she would not believe it.
Two hours after Dominguez had set out a knock finally sounded upon the door. He looked up in relief. "He's here…I'll be right back," he whispered, as he gently released Sierra's hand and walked out of the bedroom. Swiftly rushing over to the door, he grabbed the slippery handle and flung the door open.
The old man stood there, breathing heavily as his chest rose and fell. Dominguez sat on his shoulder, cawing and squawking. "Sorry I'm late," he said apologetically as he came into the living room. In one hand he carried a large brown carpet bag, bulging to the brim with all sorts of strange shapes within. "My supplies," he explained, "I had to get them all from the clinic at headquarters…had to bribe the delivery boy to get my hands on this stuff."
"Gods…come inside," Nash said, his greeting coming out nervous and frustrated as he closed the door behind him.
"Ah…wait!" a voice called out from behind the closed door. "You forgot about me…"
Nash cocked his head at the sound of the unfamiliar voice—female and young-sounding, and surely too sweet to be suspicious. Turning to his old friend he raised his eyebrows in confusion.
"Ah, I asked somebody to come along…she's a student nurse at headquarters, and I sure could use all the help I could get," Joker said, scratching his head. "Don't worry, we can trust her…she's a nice girl." Brushing Nash aside, he quickly advanced to the door and opened it. "Come on in, Mio."
A short, young girl entered, curious eyes peering around the dwelling. She had closely-cropped brown hair tucked under a nurse's white cap, and large, deep brown eyes. She donned a light blue dress under a ruffled white apron, and in her hands she carried a large white bag, presumably filled with even more supplies to aid in the delivery.
"Hello," she said shyly. "My name is Mio…I'm a student nurse at the clinic, and Mr. Joker here told me there was an emergency delivery with some complications. He asked me to come, and I really wanted to help…I hope you don't mind, Mister….?"
"Nash," the blonde answered, giving her a gentle smile. "No, not at all…we need all the help we can get. But…just one thing." He came in closer to her and looked her in the eye. "Ah…I guess you could say this is a 'unique condition'…the thing is, the mother is kind of…well, different from most women. And we're not sure how the child itself is going to turn out…so I'll have to ask you—"
"Oh, don't worry about that!" Mio interrupted, with an understanding look upon her face. "Everything will be confidential…it's a nurse's code."
A sudden, sharp cry suddenly sounded from the bedroom, causing all three to anxiously turn towards the half-open door. "She's in here," Nash announced. "Come…I'll show her to you…"
(-)
The world was shimmering, clothed in brief flashes of red and white…and no matter how she tried to clear her field of vision, struggled to see clearly once more, she could not.
The only images she saw were fuzzy and distorted, more like shapes of color moving across her eyes than actual objects and people in front of her. The pain had finally taken its toll; it had left her weak and incoherent, and she quietly resigned herself to the fact that the entire delivery was now in Nash's hands.
He came into the room now; she would always be able to tell who he was, for out of all the people she had ever been around, his was the face that would always be unforgettable to her. He was followed by two others….two? The first one she surmised was the mercenary doctor, Joker…but the second? It seemed like a young girl, probably not even as old as she had been when she had first been turned into a vampire…who was this? A helper, perhaps? This was unnecessary; the more people there were the more mouths to reveal the truth about her and her mysterious condition…
She could not protest; she could not move, could not even lift her arm as the three crowded around her, their blurred shapes almost menacing to her in the dim light of her mind. The boy slowly peeled the blanket off the damp mattress, revealing her nude body to the doctor and his helper. There was nothing to be done about this, she quickly reminded herself. Few had the privilege to have witnessed her unclothed; these two would have to be thankful she would allow them to live.
For a moment the world turned totally dark; no shapes could be seen, no trace of the familiar azure eyes which she had grown so fond of. But then the universe opened once again; surely some time had been lost, for now the small table next to the bed was loaded with small bottles and packages—medical supplies, she realized. Nash was still standing over her, and the apprehension surrounding him was tangible to her soul as the doctor and his helper bustled about; the doctor rubbing some kind of sticky substance over her abdomen; the nurse setting a hot towel on her already warm forehead….
"…think we should attempt…dangerous…"
"…think so…otherwise…a chance of…"
She gave up on listening; it would do her no good, and whatever they decided to do she would learn the outcome in a little while, anyway…
The waves had subsided for the time being; but now she could feel them coming again, even stronger than before. It seemed like something was trying to burst out of her, trying to dash her organs and skin to pieces, knowing her stomach from inside…trying to destroy her…
No! Stop! The agony is too great for me…you must stop…
The battle raged on without end; every time she thought she won over it, overpowered it with her will, it began a new campaign. Arrows pierced her sides; fire burned within; cannons seemed to rip through her, causing her to cry out in pain as she heard the nervous voices of the doctor and nurse…
"…wrong! Induce her to…"
"…not responding…."
What did they want of her? What more could she do? This force was too powerful for her to take, surely; it would kill her, send her to the place she should have gone to several centuries before. It would win over her…she could not stand up to it…
There must be a way…go…I have given you everything, go!
One final stance; one ending bow. She would win…she had to win. She would push this thing away from her, sent it off; she would not give up.
And victory.
(-)
It felt like something had been taken from her; as if, in her struggle to win, something important was gone. In the instant it had been removed, an titanic wave of relief had settled over her, cleansing her like a river with its warm, soothing tones; her stomach, empty as it did feel, was released from pain like a prisoner from a cell.
And amidst the purity, the liberation from the battle, mixing with the sudden feeling of emptiness that suddenly materialized inside her, she heard Nash's hoarse words, his crazed tones clear to her ears.
"What…what's wrong? What's wrong! Why isn't she crying! Why isn't she…"
And then the doctor's voice, steely and defeated.
"She…she's dead."
To be continued…
Note: This chapter was a little sketchy to write, too…I had some trouble with descriptions and such, but I'm actually happy that I've finally reached this point…it's all downhill from here. Now, my long plotbunny can finally be fulfilled…oh yeah, and I know Mio is only 27 in Suikoden III, and if we go by Suikogaiden's timeline, she'd be about 12 during this time…but for this story's purposes, please assume that she's about 15 or 16. Just pretend!
Kuroi-neko Kun: Teehee, "pique" seems to be your favorite word. Ah, and sorry about not reviewing your story yet…I just haven't had a lot of time to read fanfiction lately, and I wanted to make sure I had a good amount of time to read yours so I wouldn't rush through it. Don't worry though, I'll be reviewing within the next few days…
Virtue: Yup, most people seem to think Jeane is bi…but as for Sierra, no. I think it's because most people stick her with Nash or Rean or some other guy…no one ever thinks of the possibilities…
Renmazuo: Thanks for your comments! Yup…roles do change over time. Glad you appreciate my story!
Wizard3: The last of Jeane? Perhaps…perhaps not…
Next chapter: Problems, problems, problems…and the child, the poor innocent child…what happened to it? Stay tuned.