Boss Rush: Star Light, Star Bright
An LLS Production
Dedicated to Ten Commandments for 50th review!
Sorry it took so long, but I had slight writer's block... Enjoy!
Today is a clear day, the weather clement, and unlikely to rain. I am Fudo Ryuusei, and we are washing the D-Wheels meant for our team, Team Black Knights.
The naming was a coincidence, but it is an amusing one.
"Ryuusei!" Rex yelled. "Why do we have to do this?"
"Rex, you promised to take good care of the Throne," I warned. "Remember?"
"Yes, yes," Rex grumbles. My best friend might complain, but I know that it is merely his exterior demeanour that makes his like that. He is very much like Uncle Jack, but with more common sense.
Apparently, that is a good thing, a Jack Atlas doppelgänger with more common sense. Perhaps, perhaps not. That is why he is not pressing the argument of why do we have to wash the D-Wheels.
"Shut up and bring the soap already," my other best friend, Chase Princeton, scowled. Oddly enough, he wore a grey shirt and shorts instead of his usual black attire that made him look like his own Uncle Jun. "The forecast said it'd rain by the evening." His look clearly communicated that arguments had better wait, and that is why Rex is not arguing.
Today we are starting on one very important task for any D-Wheeler; washing the D-Wheel. It is a delicate process; I cannot tell you how many fragile circuits and parts have been lost to rust and soap by incorrect washing. Unlike a normal car, a D-Wheel was more like a computer with a very hardy outer shell and a power core connected to Momentum where the feed-back could explode like some miniature reactor and cause untold casualties in an enclosed area.
Zero Reverse was a very horrible truth, after all.
So, any romantic notions of washing were discarded by the actual process of taking apart the D-Wheel and treating each part by hand with a soaped damp towel, periodically dunked into silvery water. It is not a process by which the common man can gain any enjoyment; in fact, it is a tedious activity best done with other people. Since the hands and legs may be somewhat occupied, there is only one known way to pass the time, conversation.
Or, in Rex's case, blasting the radio.
Chase winced at the harsh grating music Rex seemed to favour. "Turn it off, git." His British was clearly showing in his irritation.
Rex scowled back but switched channels to something else. "And Team Unicorn does it again-"
"Do you think the next WRGP would be won by Team Ragnarok?" I asked. This prompted a discussion between Andre vs Dragan and Breo's chance of taking Brave. Our conclusion later was that Team Unicorn was unlikely to dominate the WRGP this year either.
As usual, our conversation would swing to the Arcadia Movement. "Oi, Ryuusei, what's Shimotsuki's next plan for the summer?" Chase asked.
It seems to be the sole ambition of Shimotsuki Setsuka to become the domineering force of any life I choose. It always seems like that. Chase might be well-meaning, and I could see the bags under his eyes that spoke of a rough night, but that did not mean that he had escaped her insidious influence.
For a moment, I believe that Shimotsuki might actually take that as a compliment. She does take a very Vetinari approach to life.
I first met the Arcadia Movement at age seven, when the Black Rose Dragon made its physical appearance in Satellite and required Rex and Dad to rescue me from it. At that time, Mom did not... like it much. Neither did I, to be honest; Dad had related to me what Divine Mizuki did. However, he had also added that the new head was something much more different from Divine could ever be.
I asked why. Dad smiled, and said that I would know in the future. Later, I read that Divine Mizuki had committed suicide in prison after a two-week-prior visit from Madame Seiran Shimotsuki.
Either way, I did not know that at seven years old, and with my lack of control, the garden about the apartment complex was growing out of control. Hence I visited the Arcadia Movement for the first time.
It was a building best described as craggy.
Somewhere in Neo Domino City, between the rich Tops districts and the middle-class shopping and Duel district of the Daimon Area, there was a building of medium height, barely a skyscraper. This building stood on the site of the former Arcadia Movement building itself, and contained the reinvented Arcadia Movement.
The outside of the building was black stone, some panels polished smooth as mirrors, some panels rough as cliffs, some etched with symbols and esoteric art. The main entrance itself was dominated by an arch of black marble, which, if you looked at it right, you would see the mica gleaming from reflected light like so many stars in the night sky. It was a castle of sanctuary, stolid and stable and eliciting a feeling of security in darkness for all who looked at it.
Of course, like all buildings, it changed with the age and times. The office of the head then, which was yet to be referred as the Oblong Office, was brighter, fresher, and less monochrome but more reassuring in a way.
It was in this office that Dad and Mom brought me to face the Madame Shimotsuki for the first time.
"Hmm, so many types... there's no one-size fit-all." The Madame was beautiful, I had thought. She had ebony hair bound up in a simple ponytail tied high on her head, and she carried herself with regal grace like royalty itself. She wore a simple-cut suit, but like a gown. She was not the fiery beauty of my mother, but hers was something of elegance born from intelligence and some aura of danger about her. She was the White Witch, and it showed in the paleness of her suit. Beside her, on a smaller desk, had perched the then-young Miss Shimotsuki Setsuka herself. Shimotsuki Seiran would bring her daughter to work, I recalled.
"Stainless steel," Madame Shimotsuki declared on the limiter. "No opals... boys are so troublesome... stainless steel, dog tags. I think we'll have to commission Dr Fudo for this. Ryuusei, you see? Even your papa's going to help."
"Papa makes limiters?" I had blurted. I was seven, and Dad was still Papa who had done everything for me.
"Yes," she had answered, almost kindly. "All-metal limiters, for more professional purposes. The Movement usually uses some form of jewellery, but we have people working overseas that want something discreet. For such professional jobs, Professor Fudo has been delivering consistent results. He's been doing that ever since he was informed of your re-emerging powers, Izayoi-san."
"For us..." Mom had echoed as Dad hugged me.
"You have a wonderful husband," the Madame was teasing, her voice bubbling with laughter. "Watch him well! "
She then looked at me. "Well, Ryuusei-kun? You and I will have some time together here. Shall we see this through? For the sake of the future, will you lend me that power?"
I wanted to. I desperately wanted that promise, vague as it was, that she held. "Yes."
She laughed. "I accept. Oh, and, Ryuusei, what's your epithet?"
"Epithet?" I repeated.
"Another name we use for your file," the Madame smiled, an expression that graced her face well. "It's a word we use to disguise people, so that members are kept confidential unless requested by the authorities from us. A form of identity protection. I use Endymion, and Setsuka here is Polaris. After all... isn't it exciting? A name used to address you within the Movement itself, it's like in a spy movie, right?"
I remember smiling with her, at ease. "Regulus."
"The little prince," she entering it quickly and professionally. "Regulus it is. Well then," she coughed, her voice now formal. "Ryuusei Fudo, code-name Regulus. Welcome to the Arcadia Movement."
That was how I joined. Nine years had passed.
I was broken from going down memory lane by Rex dropping a part. "Seika!"
"Nii-chan, Rex-nii, Chase-nii," my adopted sister greeted. "Lemonade?"
She was an angel in the kitchen. "Thanks, Seika."
"I'll leave it by the side," Seika paused. "Oh, and, Setsu-chan brought cakes along."
Seika was one of the few beings on this earth capable of calling the most dangerous psychic of the Arcadia Movement Setsu-chan. That was bizarre beyond any definition, if only because Seika would have been adopted by the Shimotsuki family if not for Mr and Madame Shimotsuki's death.
"Lemonade and cakes?" I heard that smooth voice. "Quite an inventive taste, Seika-han. Perhaps your brother might relish it more than I."
I am all for sarcasm, but when faced with the exercise of it from a nearly seventeen-year-old who not only had the power to kill me, but also the practicality of mind to make the body disappear, I am left to wonder about the state of the world today.
"S- Shimotsuki?" Rex gaped. He had taken off his shirt in the summer heat, and now the cold eyes of Shimotsuki Setsuka were scanning him.
"Hmph," Shimotsuki was unperturbed by his musculature, even though I am sure that James was not as tall or as packed as Rex.
Rex was the boy whom I had fought with at six years old, and thus cemented one of the most stable of friendships by his calling me a girl. How did I resemble the female form in any way I am at a loss to calculate, but call me a girl he did, and we did fight, and we became friends that day once we had knocked each other to the ground. Rex also packed a mean right hook, I knew from experience.
"Why...?" Chase sighed as Seika brought out an entire tea set. "And what's with the tea-set?" Chase was always prone to over-reacting...
"But, Setsu-chan brought tea as well!" Seika pointed out in that innocent way of hers that remained firmly convinced that Shimotsuki Setsuka was still the innocent, albeit cold girl that had nearly become her older sister. "And, Nii-chan, you're not the only people who own the veranda!"
Perhaps I should explain. Our apartment was on the ground floor, thought effectively my grandparents must have bought the entire complex in a fit of wedding frenzy, I believe. The back of the apartment was occupied by the garage and veranda, with the plum blossom tree nearby that hung at the window of my room. It was still late spring, so the plum blossoms did not look out of season though they bloomed all the year around in some way I am still at a loss to explicate. Overall, I realised that two two girls, it made the perfect place to kick back and have a snack, unlike that flower-viewing party Shimotsuki had dragged us to Mutou Memorial Park for.
Even though the smell of flowers subtly changed, even as the witch of the time flower remained staring at the plum blossoms long after the sun had set, even when we had finally finished with cleaning and maintenance and got started on the lemonade, even when Shimotsuki beat Rex at chess but drew with me, even when we began another conversation on the new Fire Fist archetype, it was... good. Peaceful. A crystallisation of everything I had ever wanted; friends, family, and relative cash to be fed and happy.
Everyone wishes for power. I wished for power to protect and get what was needed. Where power corrupted, and where it was beneficial, I did not know, but I fervently wished never to cross that line. Even though my name and my ability would always draw people to me, and not all of them were good; though the presence of Marguerite with me would draw those with powers beyond psychic powers and without the scruples to use them for their own ends; I cannot understand them, but I wish for peace. It is hardly coming, peace is something that not all wish for, apparently, but I try.
I thought I heard the cry of agreement from Night Rose Dragon. Black Rose, Night Rose, both were mine to bear as the son of the Black Rose Witch. Both were my inheritance, from the Shooting Star, and from my mother. Even though both marked me as targets, they were mine, a reminder that I am not alone.
"Oi, Ryuusei!" Rex yelled at me as I realised that I was daydreaming again. The sun had set, and my friends were sleeping over. It was warm, the remains of Seika and Mom's cooking lingering, and Dad was giving a rare laugh from some incident at work Mom was relating before the conversation turned to Duel Monsters.
Somewhere, I heard Marguerite laugh, and I tuned it out. Just for a moment, I was not hiding a secret of the Duel spirits, even though Chase was looking at me with a puzzled expression. Just for this moment, we were just friends instead of nearly brothers-in-arms, and we were happy in this rare intermission in our lives. Maybe, this is how the lone star feels in the skies.
Perhaps, I should have anticipated or noticed how the star shone alone come the dawn.
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