Disclaimer:
I do not own Klonoa or any other of his game series' characters. For one thing is that this fic may not become what you expect.
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A NEW LIFE
--CHAPTER 1 – MOVING ON--
It was a vision, the sight of his grandfather smiling gently right at him, the background was a blinding white and the two were all alone in a vast plain nothingness. Words were spoken in a healthy tone, I was as if his grandfather was never sick, a sound of perfect health in old age. "Remember Klonoa, even though I'm no longer there…" though his mouth continued to move it was as if the sound system in a fancy television set was muted and the sight became whiter and whiter till it blinded him. He started to mumble and move relentlessly before waking up with a jolt screaming 'grandpa!' He subconsciously sat himself up in rebound from the dream, beads of sweat rushing down his fur and deep long pants came again and again from deep within his somewhat dry throat.
Waking from a dream both good and bad (depends on how you look at it.) he was on his soft bed inside his room, the window by his side was wide open letting the sunlight and the distinct scent of nature invitingly enter his sleeping chamber. He was used to waking up with this tranquil site so the first thought that came in his young mind was that everything was just a bad dream and all is right in the world of Phantomile. Looking all around him in relief his fear returned when he realized that he was wearing… a dirty formal black suit.
"oh no… please no" was the reoccurring thought that played in his broken mind again and again like a broken record.
After suddenly jumping off the bed he banged open his bedroom door and rushed down the wooden stairs sometimes almost missing a step or two, hoping that everything from the suit to the grave was part of some extremely strange coincidence faith has cruelly played on his young self.
He reached a rectangular opening covered by a white transparent curtain in the wall big enough for a door leading to his home's kitchen, a shadow was darkening bits of the curtain. He pried in and joy filled his face with a smile, he saw the back figure of a large cabbit in front of the stove blocking the path of sunlight emanating from the kitchen window in front of the figure. Was that confusing? His grandfather was alive, or so he thought.
The bigger of the two somehow felt him and turned his head, neck and chest to the right allowing him to look back at the boy. What or better yet who Klonoa saw was someone he never thought he'd see again, as if that person was someone dead that came back to life, ironically to his grandfather he'd wish that was true but this man was a different case… this man-cabbit was large and black, he had dark grey fur where Klonoa had white and his ends weren't cloud-fluffy, they were pointing in an arc, like wild fur.
The boy's expression changed. Memories flashed, thoughts returned, remarks created and rage accumulated. He frowned angrily, showing his fangs and his eyes burned with a dark and direct emotion. "What are YOU doing here!!?" came out from the boy's mouth in a very harsh yet still high-pitched tone that stated itself that the man was very much unwelcome in his home and probably in his life.
Strangely enough, the stranger replied plainly and maybe even jokingly. "Yeah… I missed you too, son."
He opened a container wooden container with a hatch that opens from the bottom for plates and other forms of culinary ware including drinking glass and two custom mugs. He reached for a bowl, pouring in it the contents of whatever he was cooking.
It was a little late when what the person who was presumed to be Klonoa's father said registered on the boy's mind. A moment of flat silence before another outburst "Don't call me that, you're not my father!!" He tightened his grip on the touchable side of the kitchen wall opening as he wasted bits of his energy for that release.
The older cabbit carefully placed the hot tempered dish on the table, for someone with large ears it seemed that he didn't hear what Klonoa just yelled from the top of his lungs at him. Maintaining the tone he used earlier he replied to his son.
"Here, have something to eat. You'll need it when we leave." Nice guy huh?
Cracking his fingers on the hand that he rested on the wall he forced his eyes closed and gave a huge "aaaahhh!!"… And the cabbit didn't even let me finish my narrating. He soon went running off to the front door. The older cabbit, left alone in that room with the scent of his cooking lingering around just gave one long regretful sigh as he nodded his head left and right in questionable motive.
He made a trail of tears as he ran to the place where he steadily posted himself solid days ago, wavering solid but solid non the less. Collapsing on the grass once more he stared at the grave and asked himself questions of the past and the future. Why did he come back? What will I do now? When WE leave? Where are we going?? Am I even gonna go with that man? After what he did!?
"I don't want to leave you grandpa…" at that moment flashbacks rushed through his mind.
He was five that time when he last saw his father. He never had any recollection of him before that and in fact that, that memory was his one and only. He remembered around earlier that day when he was being playfully fed by his mother… the most beautiful creature in the village back then. A knock on the door was heard and then the usually merry-tuned 'Wait a minute.' by his mother. From his seat he could hear the creaking sound of the door opening. He heard a shriek of excitement a few moments later and out of curiosity and panic rushed his way to the door and then there he was, his father being hugged by mommy as if she hasn't seen him in a long time... "wait a minute…" he thought and at the same time copying his mother's words only without putting it into song.
Forgetting his line of thought he recollected more of that day and remembered having an outing on the grassy outskirts, just the three of them, he was on piggyback ride behind his daddy. Later that day he was laid on the grass and he saw his father giving her mother a fresh bouquet of wild flowers. They were her favorites, he knew that for a long time and that was where his last memory of him ended. He just realized something, his father never made anything to be hated… he made them happy… so then why does he feel rage?
He remained in the fallen position as he thought deeper into his memories. He remembers now, and he forcefully plucked the grass in both his hand's ranges. One winter night… his mother suddenly fell ill; Daddy never appeared by her death bed… it seemed that the more he thought, the more questions would reveal their ugly heads, he pondered more but for the suspense of this story I shall save that info in later chapters.
Around all those thoughts crossing his mind, he suddenly heard his stomach growl. Days had passed since anything edible entered his mouth, the hunger was there since he woke up but the emotions and turn of events hid it like a needle in a haystack, slowly he walked back to the house after paying his respects to the grave, he noticed a half-bloomed flower and then picked it up. The flora was white with some sort of metallic hue on the petals…
He whispered in speculating discovery. "This is…" the flower was his mom's favorite kind, did his father left it there? Another moment passed and he smiled inside.
"Maybe… I can give him a chance…" he thought as he gently left it there on the standing part of the gravestone and made his way back with a genuine smile. On the way he was still pondering on thoughts. Sadly enough once he got to the door his decision was backed to "I won't… he deserves it… for leaving us…" maybe what happened earlier was a sudden exclamation due to the mood. Maybe it was a child's confusion clouding his judgment or his pride or a mixture of both but it was a final decision for him, maybe.
He entered the door and made his way to the kitchen, slowly shrugging off the curtain on his way as if he was an undercover agent. The kitchen was empty, there were no signs of his father, yes he acknowledged him as his father now but still… it's complicated. Taking in the scent of fish he looked to a corner of the room. The dish his father made was in a closer look proved to be a type of fish soup, something that was in his top 10 mental list of faves. He sat there and breathed in the alluring scent before grabbing the spoon and taking a taste, it was a bit cold now but none the less better than anything his grandfather attempted on a similar dish... that thought made him pause while another spoonful of the soup was in mid attempt. Why was he comparing the two?
He began to reconsider opinions once again. "Maybe, just maybe…" from the other side of the opening in the wall his father smiled as he took a peak on his unknowing son. Klonoa had more than enough potential to accept him after that, but one thing's for sure in the boy's mind, he'll never admit it in front of the big guy himself.
After a while when the soup was done and every bit of broth was finished Klonoa sat slump, giving his first true spontaneously genuine smile in a while, not just because of the food mind you. His father suddenly entered with a worried look, it made him give a sudden quick attempt to change his figure and position to a more decent one. Now why should he care about what his father thinks?
"I have to go back right now, are you coming or not… Klonoa?" I guess what Klonoa yelled earlier did register in his father's mind.
He stood up and looked at his father, "I'll get my things." Before running to his room and at the same time making his father stumble a bit he for he was on the way.
Taking a large bag under his cabinet he blew on it revealing that it was dusty. He took all his clothes and at first made an attempt to fold them neatly but then screwed it and just stuffed the bag up, he didn't bother to change from the formals he wore right now. Lastly, he opened the drawer by his bed, he grabbed the alarm clock placed on the top and ruffled on the belongings inside, and he took a picture of him, his mother and grandfather as well as knick and knacks from that drawer.
Like he was in a race, he hastily went down as if he knew he should really hurry and noticed that his father was by the front door looking literally like a ghost, was he fading? Taking a few steps closer as he was in awe, his father reached his arm out which after a few second, was held by a hesitant Klonoa. They suddenly disappeared into thin air after that. An Abracadabra, poof, vanish, gone.
TO BE CONTINUED
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Chapter 1 redone, I bet that was rather past readers, is it better than the old version?? Some of you might have picked up some clues; Klonoa's dad is a Dream Traveler from another world, I plan to make a totally different story that hasn't been tried yet, expect the unexpected, I encourage it. What do you think?? Please Review, oh and I haven't abandoned "Return to Lunatea" It's just a case of writer's block and procrastination... Yes, I haven't rewritten the ending words.