-Preface-
Well, this week was a little quiet review-wise, only two reviews, though both of them were very informative. These two are the last of the premade prologues,
with only 2 more to go. This will, of course, mean that writing speed will slow down. As a college student, I am entering finals week, and so I may only be able to
release one of the prologues next weekend. I apologize if it's a little underwhelming, but I will try to make it up as much as possible as soon as my semester ends.
Thanks! - Mr. Sparkles
-New Year at the Kururugis'-
"May all your troubles last as long as your New Year's resolutions."
-Joey Adams
Prologue
January 1st, Ascension Throne Britannia 2010
Kururugi Family Shrine
Mt. Fuji, Honshu, Nation of Japan
The driver of the black Sedan felt as if he was driving in a battlefield.
To be honest, he was tempted to turn on the radio or to play some music, but something about the tension in the air told him that he was better off leaving the dashboard untouched.
Truly, as the proverb went, "serving a prince is like sleeping with a tiger."
It was best for a mere driver to stay out of the battles of the Fujimura family.
The battle that had started the drive from Homubara High School had long since devolved into a Cold War between the two Fujimuras.
Fujimura Taiga stared out the window angrily, displeasure clear on her face. The hakama she still wore, the tiger-print wooden shinai and the slight tang of sweat made it quite obvious where she had been moments before her pickup.
Next to her, her grandfather looked forbiddingly calm as he leaned on his staff. Fujimura Raiga had personally stalked into Homubara and dragged his granddaughter out of the Kendo club. His anger had only cooled slightly since then.
"Tell me, Fujyou," Raiga growled to the driver, "Why the daughter of my favorite son turns out to be so utterly unlady like, so useless?"
"Dad was your ONLY son," Taiga snapped back as the Driver remained silent.
"Hence my favorite. At least he didn't have any trouble getting married."
"A good husband will accept me for who I am," Taiga grumbled in return.
"I don't think such a man exists," Raiga muttered under his breath as the car continued up the mountain road.
A thin layer of snow covered the Kururugi Clan Compound, remnants of the snows from two days ago.
The soldiers at the compound gate didn't seem perturbed as they saluted to the Fujimura sedan.
Given, these soldiers were not part of the Japanese Self-Defense Forces—their dull-green, conservative uniforms and their weapons ( Japan-manufactured models, as opposed to the JSDF's EU-manufactured variants and old-fashioned swords ) harkened back to an older era.
But, in the eyes of many Japanese, they carried far more legitimacy than the New Army based nearby in Tokyo.
For these were the Old Guard, the last remnants of the Pacific War.
Just like the facility they guarded, the Old Guard reminded most Japanese of a time where Japan was a world power capable of humiliating Britannia, the Chinese Federation and the E.U. at the same time.
Given, that old Imperial Military Government had pursued some questionable policies—most Japanese preferred to change the subject when reminded of the brutalities they had inflicted on the citizens of the Chinese Federation [1] and the Pacific Islands, or the military coups associated with the time—but even so, most Japanese saw that government as far more legitimate than the squabbling civilian government that had held power since the Dishonor of Yokohama.
And, in a way, the Driver realized as they drove inside, they WERE the legitimate government.
After all, this was a meeting convened by the Prime Minister of Japan, for the most powerful men of Japan.
After all, here was Fujimura Raiga, one of the most powerful businessmen of Japan, a member of the Kyoto Group that dominated Japanese finances.
The men and women assembled in this quaint home was, the driver conceded as Fujimura Raiga and his daughter exited, the true government of Japan.
Fujimura Taiga strode past the talking politicians and businessmen without a second thought.
A few of them frowned as the light whiff of cold sweat brushed past them. Taiga didn't notice, and she wouldn't have cared even if she had.
The Kururugi family home was nearly a second home to her—and you should be able to wear whatever want to wear at home.
Ignoring the indignant ministers, she walked through the wooden walkways while calling in no particular direction.
"Oy, Suzaku! Suuuuzzaaaaaakkkuuuuuuuu!"
"He's out in the courtyard practicing with Todoh," a bored voice came from behind her.
Taiga turned to the dark-haired boy leaning against a pillar. Unlike everyone else in the compound, he looked European or Britannian, with perceptive purple eyes that looked a lot older than his years.
He was around 10 or 11, with nearly shoulder-length dark hair and a face that would have been adorable had it not looked so supremely uninterested, like a king unimpressed by a court jester.
The kid had shown up last year, and most people weren't exactly sure who he was. Though there had been quite a lot of buzz on his arrival, most of the staff at the Kururugi residence had settled on a state of enlightened neglect, providing for the kid and his sister's needs while doing their best to leave their existence unacknowledged.
Personally, Taiga disliked that kind of attitude. Though she wasn't exactly the kid's best friend, she was willing to talk with him once in a while.
"Why don't ye join him? Kendo's a noble sport, you know…" Taiga swept back her hakama's sleeve as she bunched her hand into a fist. "I can teach you, you know. To beat the snot out of Suzaku."
The boy looked a little scared.
"Erm, it's alright, I'm not one for physical exertions—"
"YOU CAN BEAT HIM!"
"Err—"
"YOU'RE GONNA EAT LIGHTNING, AND YOU'RE GONNA CRAP THUNDER![2]"
The boy winced a little at the mincemeat she had made out of English Rocky Quote as he ran off.
"ADRIIIAANNNNNNNNNNNN,[2]" Taiga called to his receding back before sighing resignedly.
"Wuss."
The loud cracks of bamboo on bamboo resounded from the courtyard.
Taiga ran in without a second thought—the sound of a kendo match excited her.
In the courtyard, a boy with tousled brown hair was struggling against a tall, emotionless man, also in a Hakama.
"So Cool," Taiga murmured to herself as she watched Kyoshiro Tohdoh effortlessly parry Suzaku's attacks. It had been Tohdoh who had first inspired Taiga to learn Kendo—the way he managed to always remain perfectly serene in battle, like the calm in a storm.
Tohdoh was probably the only individual Taiga was still willing to call Master.
Suzaku Kururugi, meanwhile, was slowly wearing out with each attack. The pants between each strike and the sweat that flew off him showed that he was near his limit.
"This is pretty much done," Taiga muttered.
"Is that you, Fujimura-san?"
Taiga blinked at the unfamiliar honorific. She turned—and noticed the auburn-haired that had been sitting next to her.
"Erm, you were…Nunnally, right?"
The girl looked up at her—well, faced her. Her eyes remained firmly closed. Nunnally, after all, was completely blind. Nevertheless, the radiant smile she gave to Taiga seemed to give weight to the illusion that she could see.
"I'm glad you remember, Fujimura-san."
"Ehe,he, thanks," Taiga said with a slightly blush. This girl was the only one who would refer to Taiga with an honorific. But for some reason, Taiga couldn't be herself around this girl. She wasn't quite sure why—but there was something ephemeral about Nunnally.
Unlike Suzaku and her brother, Nunnally just looked fragile, like a piece of glass at a jewelry shop.
She and a boisterous, clumsy individual such as Taiga were probably just incompatible with each other.
"Oy! Suzaku!" Taiga called. Surprised, Suzaku turned—just as, with a fairly loud crack, the bamboo Shinai echoed on his shoulder.
"Don't be so easily distracted," Tohdoh admonished before turning to Taiga. "Ah, Fujimura."
"Oy, Master!" Taiga cheerfully bowed as she walked over to Suzaku, tousling his sweaty hair to form a bigger tangle than was normal.
"Stop that," Suzaku complained angrily, but Taiga simply grinned and continued doing it as she turned to Todoh. "Any chance you would give me the chance to spar you today, master?"
Todoh thought about it, his face as expressionless as always. "Sorry, Fujimura, but not today. Instead, why don't you have a match with Suzaku? He still has quite a lot to learn."
"I don't want to spar with the Tiger—" Suzaku whined—and then stopped when he caught sight of Taiga's expression.
"…what did you just call me…?"
Suzaku froze. "Erm."
With a bright smile, Taiga gave a thumbs up to Tohdoh. "Of course, Master! Leave it to me!"
Even Tohdoh felt a slight chill in the frigid winter air.
Fujimura "Tiger" Taiga slowly unwrapped her yellow-and-black Bamboo Shinai as she pulled back her sleeves with a wicked smile.
"Don't worry, Suzaku…I'll be gentle."
Something in the smile told Suzaku she'd be anything but.
Kyoshiro Tohdoh walked away from the yelps of pain the courtyard. Suzaku would learn a good lesson about holding his tongue, a lesson that both he and his best friend, the Caucasian boy, would do well to learn.
"Ah, there you are, Tohdoh."
Tohdoh turned—and instantly snapped to attention as a man in graying hair and an old Imperial Japanese Army uniform walked up to him.
At over 80, General Seishiro Nagano still stood tall, a well-built body that required no cane. Like Tohdoh, he served the Old Guard—the portion of the Japanese Army still loyal to the family of the old Emperor.
Indeed, he was in many ways the founder.
General Nagano was one of the last survivors of the Old Guard, the officers that supported Japan's military government during the Second Pacific War.
Following D-day, the Britannian Landing in Yokohama harbor, the Civilian Government had forced the Emperor to capitulate, handing over Emperor Hirohito and most of the Old Guard's senior leadership into the hands of Lord MacArthur's Britannian Army.
Nagano had been one of the few who had survived the war and the aftershocks, returning to Japan after the Britannians were compelled to withdraw through international pressure by China and the EU.
It was Nagano and these survivors who rekindled the flames of nationalism, appealing to those in Japan still loyal to the Emperor and the remnants of the dissolved Imperial Japanese Army and forming the National Conservative Party, a party devoted to the preservation of Japan's old cultural values.
At a time where Japan largely developed under Britannian influence, the National Conservative Party found many allies in more conservative Japanese who saw Britannian influence as a cancer on their traditional culture, forming the Shadow Government[3] that commanded far more loyalty than the official government.
As of now, General Nagano was the head of the Old Guard's Armed forces, and Tohdoh's superior and mentor.
"At ease," the general ordered, and Tohdoh relaxed his stance—but only slightly.
"Major General Senba sends his greetings," Tohdoh said with a bow as he fell in behind the General.
Nagano chuckled. "Senba…that old raccoon is still alive? How're things at the Academy?"
"Well, sir." When he was not at the Kururugi shrine, Tohdoh taught military history at the Imperial Officer's Academy on the island of Itsukushiima, offshore from Hiroshima. "The Major General is doing his best to accelerate officer's training."
"Good," General Nagano replied as he walked through a screen door to where a group of men in uniform stood assembled. Nagano motioned to a man wearing the cobalt green and Britannian-like uniform of the Japanese Self Defense Forces.
"This is Major General Katase Tatewaki, our contact with the JSDF," Nagano explained as he introduced the man, a man with mildly graying hair in his midforties and a fairly bushy brow. He extended a hand in greeting, though neither he nor Tohdoh bothered to smile. Between military officers, neither of them were fans of empty formalities.
Major General Katase immediately launched into business. "We're hoping that the academy can get troops out by March."
Tohdoh blinked. The current cadets of the Officer's Academy weren't intended to graduate until May. This kind of acceleration had only happened once before—before Japanese forces had launched that fateful attack on the headquarters of the Britannian Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbor during the last war.
"…So it's war?"
Nagano chuckled. "War's been on the horizon for a while. Intel given to us by the French tells us that the Britannians are planning an attack somewhere east. It might be China, or Korea, or the Philippines…but I'm willing to bet it's here."
Tohdoh watched the politicians outside. Nothing about their demeanor suggested that much urgency.
"How ready are we?"
Katase shrugged. "I'd like to think we're ready. Prime Minister Kururugi's aware of the danger. The Chinese are right behind us on this one—they're eager to take back Annam and southern Korea. The EU's not in a position to help, but they did send us some of their money. If Britannia's finances are as fragile as we think they are, they'll be at the negotiating table by April."
Nagano snorted. "Negotiating table? The Britannians don't know about negotiating. I'm betting they're going to launch an attack before that happens."
"General Oguchi's convinced the target is going to be India," Katase remarked.
"That's why General Oguchi and I are on such bad terms," Nagano replied. The bad blood between General Oguchi, commander in chief of the JSDF and all government forces, and "General" Nagano, leader of the paramilitary Old Guard, was legendary. Oguchi, as the representative of the Britannian-inspired "New Army," saw the Old Guard as loose cannons, relics of an older era, and had made it clear when he had the defense department cut all military subsidies to the Old Guard. Nagano and the Old Guard, on the other hand, regarded the New Army as shoddy imitations of Britannian forces incapable of anything but parades.
"…and that's why we need Major General Senba's officers out as soon as possible," Nagano finished. "We may not have the Armor or air assets that the JSDF have, but we have the forewarning and training they don't. I'm not saying the JSDF will fail…" something about the way Nagano said that made it very clear that failure was the only thing he expected of Japan's government army.
"Yes, sir. We'll do what we can."
General Nagano nodded as he put a hand on the pommel of the ceremonial sword he wore by his side, a warrior ready for battle.
"Now, let's greet General Oguchi."
Only a few buildings away from the party, a completely sober meeting was occurring in a small living room.
Six people knelt around a table, catered with only a few snacks and a pot of warmed tea.
It could well have been a group of elderly meeting for a game of supermarket bingo for a few old grocery items.
But the fact was that these six men held what was probably over half of Japan's gross GDP.
Hidenobu Kubouin, head of the Kubouin Zaibatsu[4] that dominated Japan's banking sector.
Tousai Munakata, CEO of what was easily the largest real estate broker in Japan.
Tatsunori Osakabe, leader of Japan's growing manufacturing center.
Fujimura Raiga, head of the Fujimura Group, the family that ran Japan's shipping industry.
Matou Zouken, CEO of Japan National Mining, Japan's powerful national Sakuradite-mining industry.
Genbu Kururugi, Prime Minister of Japan.
These six men [5] represented six of the seven most powerful houses in Japan, the seven men that formed Kyoto House. The rhetoric and machinations of the Diet in Tokyo meant nothing. It was these six men that determined Japan's policy.
Of the six, Genbu Kururugi was easily the largest. Well-built even in his late forties, Genbu was the host and head of this meeting. Even among these powerful men, he dominated the flow of conversation.
"Zouken, what is the state of Britannian finances? How are sanctions looking?"
"The international sanctions are starting to hurt, but in the Sakuradite sector, Britannia still has a huge strategic reserve from their past as a Sakuradite-producing state. That should be able to cushion the economic impact well into march," replied Matou Zouken, a withered looking elderly man with grey, leathery skin and dark, shadowed eyes.
"It's not making a huge difference," Fujimura Raiga noted. Kururugi had never met the Russian mythological witch known as the baba yaga, but he strongly suspected that she resembled Fujimura Raiga. Perhaps it was his underground contacts, but Fujimura Raiga's face was known to scare little children, and the tiger-print haori didn't help his image much. "From what I heard from my contacts underground, the Britannians or britannian-related enterprises are snatching up all the Sakuradite on the Black Market. Up front cash, unmarked bills. They're definitely planning something."
Kubouin sniffed. "Likely scrabbling a few last nuts for the winter, the rats." A descendant of Japan's old Kazoku nobility, he wore the traditional frock and attitudes of the old nobility.
"I'm thinking it's for war," Munakata responded. Unlike the other old men, Munakata had a full head of gray facial hair and a suit that hadn't been popular since the turn of the century. "That M-33 tank takes quite a bit of sakuradite, doesn't it?"
"…this amount of sakuradite would be enough to give an M-33 to every family in Japan," Raiga replied.
"Hence why attributing this to an arms rush is ridiculous, Munakata," Kubouin insisted.
"…Raiga, try to buy up all the Sakuradite from the black market before they can get anymore, that should put a hold on whatever they're planning," Genbu cut in firmly. "Meanwhile, we have to look at the possibility of defending the Japanese homeland. Osakabe, how's production?"
Osakabe, a tall, silent man in a cloak and an old suit, finally spoke with a deep, calming voice. "If we factor in Zouken's Sakuradite transfer, we can finish the Yamada aircraft carrier by the end of this month. We're ramping up the production of our tanks, but specwise, they're still inferior to Britannian M-33 Clintons…"
Raiga nodded
"I've negotiated the sale of 40 of Germany's new Panzer-Wulfs. The vast majority of the Britannian Army still uses traditional M-1 Bradleys, so with the Panzer-Wulfs we should be able to hold them on home soil."
"Sawasaki's said the Chinese will be buying us time with a major offensive in Siam (Annam / Indochina / Vietnam, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, etc.), so Britannian forces should be divided enough to limit the damage," Genbu added.
"With political pressure from the EU and China and our own defense, Japan should be ready for any attack from Britannia," Munakata confirmed.
Genbu smiled.
"Excellent. We've come a long way, men. Japan's come a long way. We've went from a nation cringing under Britannia's influence to a nation that can stand against Britannia itself. When Britannia succumbs, we will truly become a world power again. The same world power that once struck fear in the hearts of every other great power, and will do so again. Let's keep on going. For a brighter, stronger Japan."
"For a brighter, stronger japan," the other members echoed in the silence.
"…Thank you for your time, General Oguchi, you'll likely see a few of them in tonight's broadcast."
Matou Kariya smiled graciously until the middle-aged general turned away to talk to a forbidding-looking old man in Old Guard uniform. As soon as his attention was turned, Kariya sighed as he mopped his brow.
"Goodness, Inoue, I'm no good at these interviews, am I?"
"I thought that was pretty good, Mr. Matou[6]."
Kariya smiled a tired smile to his intern. "Inoue, I told you, Kariya is fine."
At 18, Inoue Naomi characterized many an intern on their first job—polite, quiet, and a little too eager to please.
New interns always seemed nervous, as if they knew they had done something wrong but wasn't sure what that was.
In a way, she reminded him of when he, too, had been an intern on the Nippon Hōsō Kyōkai, the Japanese National Broadcasting Corporation.
Being a reporter was a tiring, thankless job, one that required long hours and didn't always pay its worth.
But Kariya wasn't ungrateful—in fact, he truly cherished this job. Especially when his future could have been so much different.
He shook his head. He had to ignore his past. Now was not a good time, when he had to smile to politician after politician.
But how could he, when that man was somewhere in this facility?
As a member of the press corps, Kariya had a good idea who was at this family compound, and he knew that that man was somewhere here.
Matou Zouken.
Head of the Matou house, and his "great-grandfather."
In fact, Kariya knew Zouken was not his great-grandfather. In the Matou clan's 250 years of history in Japan, there had always been a man known as Zouken in the family, constantly reinserted generation after generation.
Of course, though, Kariya hadn't been surprised.
After all, the Matou were a family of Magi.
And that was why Kariya detested them.
He had never known a mother—in fact, never even seen her. She had died at his birth.
Since his birth, he had been treated differently from his older brother, Byakuya. He was treated carefully—every minor accident required a hospital visit, all his food was carefully made from the best materials. He was judged for every single score he had, every single aspect of performance, from physical fitness to intelligence. When he was younger, he had not known why so many expectations were heaped upon him. He had simply worked to meet them.
And then, one day, he had found out from that man, Matou Zouken.
That he was a magus.
For centuries, the Matou house had waned, from one of Eurasia's greatest houses to a mere imitation, powerful only due to its vast collection of knowledge. Each generation, magic circuits vanished, vestigial organs that rotted away with each son.
It wasn't for lack of trying. Matou Zouken took it onto himself to ensure the survival of the line.
Kariya, it seemed was his success. Kariya was born with a full set of magic circuits—more than anything the Matou had for two centuries. In many ways, he was a prodigy.
At first, Kariya had been amazed, proud. Under his grandfather, he began his education through the Matou's many books.
Yet, gradually, he understood what had set him apart. He saw why his own brother Byakuya would stare at him with eyes of muted resentment. Why his family treated him as if he was their savior.
It was not because he was kind, nor because he worked hard, but simply because he had a few more magical nerves than his brother.
He had been proud—and yet he had been perplexed
Was being a magus so important?
And so he began researching on his own time. He started looking into the history of the Matou clan. And what he found shocked him, disgusted him.
How Matou Zouken, that kind old grandfather, had forced modification after modification onto countless wives of the matou house in an effort to scrabble onto the magic circuits that remained. He saw the chamber where so many of them had died, too weak to take the stress of the wretched parasitic worms Zouken implanted into them in the hopes of fostering greater bloodlines. He read about his own mother, why she had died in his birth. How she had gone mad long before he was born under the modifications and changes Zouken had enforced. The only difference between her and countless grandmothers, great-grandmothers and great-great-grandmothers of hte matou was that she had been a success.
On that day, Kariya realized what his "greatness" was based on. He could not even pin his abilities on the whims of genetic recombination, but on the blood, pain and tears of his late mothers and so many before her.
And, on that day, he gave up becoming a Magus.
His family first raged at him, and then cursed him, and then shunned and disowned him altogether.
Kariya didn't care.
He wanted nothing to do with that evil house whose name he bore.
He was taken in by the family of his childhood friend, Zenjou Aoi, and there he took up a job to support himself. He first worked at local stores at minimum wage to pay for a university education. When he paid off the Zenjous, he studied for a career in journalism and landed himself a job as a reporter for the NHK.
Living near Aoi, with a steady job, he felt as if he had finally put magecraft behind. He didn't feel any need to tell anyone.
And then, one day, Aoi told him she was getting married.
Of course, that hurt enough. She had never quite noticed how he felt about her, from middle school all the way into adulthood.
What hurt more was the prospect that it would be with a magus, a Tohsaka Tokiomi.
Kariya's first image was of what had happened to his mother.
Given, the Tokiomi were quite a bit more highborn than the Matou, but to be included in the world of the magus was going to be a different life from that of the average person, irrelevant in their ignorance.
She knew the pressures of being the wife of a magus.
She had seemed so deeply in love that he couldn't tell her to reconsider.
He regretted that to this day.
Instead, he moved out. Before the marriage could occur, he moved out to the city in Tokyo.
As he had done with his family, or his past as a magus, he had run away.
They had only seen each other two or three times since.
"Mr. Matou?"
Kariya blinked. His paper cup of water was slowly dribbling onto his suit.
"Errm…this is unfortunate" he smiled uncomfortably as he mopped his suit.
Inoue looked a little confused before smiling awkwardly. "Erm, yes."
"Say, Inoue…is there anything you really want to do in life?"
"Ummm…yes?"
"Make sure you do it."
Kariya sighed. The past was the past. He had to move on.
He'd likely be on tonight's news. It was better to get ready.
It was night when Matou Zouken returned to his family home in Fuyuki. The Matou home was built quite pleasantly and luxuriously, with many windows to let in the sunlight.
It was a policy for Zouken never to have them open.
The building inside was dim and cool. Though everything was in immaculate order, there was a thick layer of stagnant air that had settled on everything.
How we have fallen, Zouken thought to himself. He remembered a day when this compound had been filled with his family and those eager for the favor of one of the greatest magus houses in the world.
From the dining room, he could hear loud raspy snores.
Leaning on his staff, Zouken hobbled into the dining room where an unshaven man was slumped over the dining table with a bottle of Western Bacardi. Matou Byakuya was completely out, doused under a thick layer of alcohol fumes.
Useless Swine.
The legal heir of the Matou family may as well have been impotent for all Zouken cared.
It was with Matou Byakuya that the Matou line of magus had died out.
His son, Shinji, was just as useless.
And with Kariya gone, the Matou were now as useless as the people they once looked down to as swine.
This would be the first time since the formation of the Holy Grail War where a Matou would not be master.
Humiliating. Absolutely Humiliating, Zouken thought to himself as he walked through the dimly-lighted hallway.
A lone, diminutive figure stood at the window, watching the snow outside.
With dull, blank eyes, Tohs—Matou Sakura turned towards Zouken as he approached.
"Ah. Sakura."
The formerly precocious girl was now like a blank doll, her dark hair and blue eyes long since transmuted into a deep purple from the worm parasites in her veins.
It had been a year since the head of the Tohsaka house had dropped off one of his two daughters at the Matou household. It was a tradition in magecraft—only one individual could receive the magic crest, the accumulated magecraft of each house. If two members of a magus family had magus potential, it was likely that the other sibling could well become dissatisfied or manipulated into becoming a a source of discord within the Magus Clan. For the safety of both the sibling and the clan, siblings with magus potential would be adopted by other magus Clans. The Matou, who were facing their extinction as a magus clan, was more than happy to adopt Tohsaka Sakura.
Yet, for all her potential as a magus, Sakura's attribute was incompatible with the magecraft of the Matou.
And so, Zouken had inscribed the magic crest of the Matou into her body.
The Matou, whose erratic bloodline had long since discredited the use of a traditional thaumaturgical crest, use a unique type of magic crest that can be transmitted complete with magic circuits—parasitic creatrues designed by Zouken known as Crest Worms.
The implantation process is, as the idea of implanting countless worms into the human body seems, incredibly painful. It had taken four days for the girl to have fallen silent.
She hadn't talked much since.
Today, though, she would not be in the chamber with the worms.
Today was somebody else's turn.
Walking past Sakura, Zouken proceeded down the steps. Here the air warmed. The basement air was warm and wet, like the innards of some giant beast. A greenish glow filled the room. There was a thin layer of something on the ground—rotted organic matter? The walls were lined with catacombs—the tombs of countless Matou past. This basement was where countless Matou had died for Zouken's ideal of immortality. And, in the center, in an indent similar to a swimming pool, was one more victim.
Zouken smiled. For once, this was not an unwilling victim.
"Still alive, I see," Zouken said affably.
Surrounded by squirming crest worms, the figure inside said nothing.
Crest Worms were powerful tools—an individual with no training in magecraft could become a full-fledged magus in a year—but only if they survived. Crest Worms live on consuming the flesh of their host—those who play host to them have their lives cut to a few years, years of excoriating pain. Someone who played host to the crest worms clearly had a death wish.
"You remember the deal, correct? I give you a servant…"
Finally, a voice and a hand reached out of the mess of worms—a hand drawn and white, pulsating with varicose veins, accompanied by a raspy voice.
"…And…you give me…a Code…"
Zouken smiled a fatherly smile.
"Of Course."
Chapter Notes – Extra Credit
[1]Japanese War Crimes – I understand, as Anime fans, that we may want to ignore some of the things Japan may have done during World War II, and that Samurai and Ninja are all cool and all…but the fact is that Japan, like many other victorious nations in so many eras, inflicted great suffering on some subject populations, particularly in China (look up the Rape of Nanking) China lost at least 7 million Civilians to "military activity and crimes against humanities," and as much as 16 million. If China had inflicted the same casualties to Japan, it would have meant that more than 1 out of every 10 japanese civilians would have been killed. Singapore lost almost 7% of its population, while Oceania lost at least 3 million people. Imperial Japan may arouse many fond memories for the Japanese, in this world or theirs, but let's not forget that they, like so many civilizations, made mistakes, and in the case of World War II (the First Pacific War in the code geass timeline—this was the time at which the Emperor was deposed, hence the lack of an emperor in Code geass), they made mistakes that cost millions of civilian lives.
[2] "You're gonna eat lightning, and you're gonna crap thunder" – a quote by Mick, Rocky Balboa's trainer, in Rocky 1. Adrian is Rocky Balboa's wife, and there are several scenes in the first three movies in which Sylvester Stallone just goes "ADDRRIIIIANNNNNNN"
[3] "Shadow Government" – I'm not trying to be cool here, the term stems from the "Shadow Ministry" in British politics—even though the most powerful party gets to nominate the prime minister and his/her cabinet in Parliament, the largest party that's not part of their coalition (the head of the Opposition) has a "Shadow Ministry", a "Shadow Prime minister" with its "Shadow Cabinet", the people that would be prime minister and his/her cabinet if the opposition were to gain power. In this case, this represents a false government in Japan that, while not internationally recognized, still holds ignificant power.
[4] Zaibatsu – think of it as a mix of a monopoly and a Mafia crime family. A Family that completely dominates a certain area through a family-run corporation. Like a criminal cartel except legal. These were pretty powerful in Japan until later economic reforms helped cut down on these powerful plutocracies.
[5] Where's Kirihara? – Shhhhh. Keep Reading Apatheia.
[6] Mr. Matou – sounds awkward as hell, but the Japanese equivalent is Matou-san. I just didn't want to overuse Japanese honorifics, since they often sound even more awkward.