Whispers of the Wicked Past
By Kayu-chan
k-chan@rocketmail.com
http://www.users.globalnet.co.uk/~stroma/whispers.html
Ranma 1/2 characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi. I really have no permission
to use them but this is for strictly non-commercial use only.
Last chapter:
Akane, in her final year of school, has her perception of reality rocked by
a series of strange dreams. The last of these dreams features a familiar
voice she can't place and who leads her to believe, unquestioningly, that
these dreams are more than just products of her imagination. Meanwhile, a
shellshocked Ryoga lies in an alley, wracked with guilt and shame over
something that happened a year ago. Akane
goes to an strange part of town and meets with a confusing reality and runs
away screaming. Ryoga knows what is happening and fears that someone else is
remembering what only he should know. What he doesn't realise is that Akane
could be that someone.
Chapter 2:
Never
He has to get to Tokyo. Nothing else matters. This sadistic
nightmare keeps getting worse and worse.
'Tump-tump-tump.'
How can he have been so stupid? If he can remember, then why
shouldn't anyone else? Why shouldn't _she_ of all people? Is it her?
'Tump-tump-tump.'
Why now? Why, when he has been so far away from Tokyo? So far away
from his past and everyone connected with it and now coming so near.
'Tump-tump-tump.'
Running so fast and so hard all night, no rest, he can't stop now, no.
He has to stop them remembering anything more or... or....
'Tump-tump-tump.'
Oh, how beautiful the night sky is from so high up, full of benevolent
stars. Tonight, it seems strangely sparse. How things change....
'Tump-tump-tump.'
His feet make such noise on this rough mountain path, heavy and tired
and sore from too much running. They make such repetitive noise, beating as
fast as his pummeling heart.
'Tump-tump-tump.'
"Oh, gods!" he shouts, stopping suddenly. The following trail of dust
wraps around his black trousers. Cold, shimmering sweat plasters his
clothing to his skin as he stands there fearfully, unable to believe that
this is really happening. His eyes, wide and fixed on what is before him.
"No... no, not this...."
He sees himself. Himself from one year ago, looking straight at him.
"Hello," he says numbly to the younger Ryoga.
"H-hello," the younger Ryoga replies unsurely.
The older Ryoga knows that this is no dream, no hallucination. One
year ago, while running through a cave, he had seen himself, an older him
trying to warn him but to no effect. Now, standing here, he knows that it
had been more than his imagination. He still sees the mountain path but he
knows the younger version sees a long, cavernous tunnel, dark and
claustrophobic.
"You won't believe me but I'm you a year from now."
"Sure you are." The younger Ryoga shakes his head and rubs his eyes,
just to see that the older him is still there. "I really need some sleep,
I'm hallucinating!" He starts to move forward when the older him puts a
hand out to stop him. Even though the hand is over a half metre from where
he is standing, the younger him stops in his tracks, unsure why he did so.
He looks at what he perceives to be a hallucination and sees a dulled
passion in the older one's eyes. Not defeated but beaten down many times.
"Why am I not moving? What's going on?"
"You're about to make the biggest mistake of your life," the older
Ryoga speaks seriously, a trace of sadness in his tone. "Listen to me,
Saranke isn't your enemy."
"Yes, h-he is!" the younger Ryoga shouts unsteadily, unnerved by this
argument with himself. "He kidnapped Akane and is threatening to kill her
and we have to go fight him!"
"He's just been driven to madness by loneliness, experienced the same
fate that you will soon have. Reason with him, talk him out of it, he's
more powerful than you think. He's messing with something too big for him
to control. Losing your temper could cost lives." The older Ryoga is
amazed by how calm and reasoned he sounds, a cold shiver running down his
spine as he can only hope that he can change fate this time around.
"I'm just having doubts, that's all! You're not real, you're just my
imagination!"
The older Ryoga ignores the protests of his other self and talks as if
reciting off a script: "The reason you never noticed Saranke before he
kidnapped Akane was because nobody was meant to notice him. He used Akane
to get attention, that's all. You know what that's like, don't you? Trying
to get people to notice your existence?"
The younger, more innocent Ryoga stops shouting at himself and falters
in his speech: "I... I... do." There is a flash of sadness that sweeps over
his determined expression for just a moment. "But I can't fail Akane
because of my past.... I won't let my own doubts get in the way of saving
her. If you're me, you'll understand why I'm doing this."
The older Ryoga nods slowly and regretfully. "I do. You love Akane."
"Time is running out, I-I have to go save her! Please, let me go!"
Closing his eyes, the world-weary Ryoga standing on the mountain path
breathes slowly in and out, trying to think of words to say to prevent the
tragedy that is about to happen. "Remember," he finally says, eyes still
closed with the cold, thin air brushing barely against his thin top.
"Remember, all the strange things that have been happening in the world?
Saranke is the cause, messing with science, removed of the conscience that
reminded him of his failures from the last time reality was messed with.
You've seen the results of his experiments so far; don't antagonise him
further. Please." He opens his eyes to see the younger him staring at him,
hesitant in believing him.
"I promise that I'll try," the innocent seventeen-year-old whispers
barely, reluctantly.
"Good." The older him closes his eyes again, knowing that this is the
point that he will fade away like an illusion. Please... please let my
words have worked, he thinks over and over before finally opening his eyes
again. The younger Ryoga has disappeared. But... he himself is still on
the path that curves round the magnificent, steep mountain. Oh, well, it
was worth a try, even if it didn't work. Failure is nothing new to him.
The black night sky, unspoiled by artificial light, mocks him and his
pathetic attempts to change fate. In the sky, he imagines some of the few
stars forming the knife at Akane's neck, held by the surprisingly large
hands of Saranke, slowly being pushed against her skin. That was the point
at which he had broken his promise to himself and snapped, launching himself
angrily at the madman....
Pleasant dreams?
Oh, it's you.
I am you.
I don't care whether you are or not.
Why aren't you crying? You failed, didn't you?
I stopped crying; it isn't worth it anymore
But it doesn't stop hurting you, does it?
Shut up, shut up, shut up!!
Ooh, temper, temper. Didn't help you stop Saranke, did it?
Shut up, shut up... "Shut up! Shut UP!" he screams to the sky, his
arms flailing around with nothing to hit, to attack. Calming down, he drops
to his knees, suddenly realising the self-truth. "I won't let my temper
ruin my life again. I will stop whoever is remembering the past, I will,
before it's too late." A single tear of his falls to the ground, splashing
and disappearing instantly, as if it never existed. "I'll do whatever it
takes, just like that old man told me. I'm not Saranke, I'm not!"
=
If only they will listen to her speak what she knows to be truth.
Something's wrong. Very wrong.
The young woman stares at the view in front of her as she stands on
top of the curvy hill. A trickling river beside her snakes down along the
rough jagged crops of rock jutting out of the slopes.
They shouldn't be jutting. This has always been a relatively small,
smooth hill fitting nicely in with the other slightly bigger, smooth bumps
in the rural landscape. A pleasant view to look at on sunny, lazy days, but
now the smoothness is being punctured by rough, grey slates of flint and
sharp, unrelenting rock. The hills no longer rolled, they lurched into
steepness.
They have been slowly appearing over the last week or two, carefully
blending into the landscape somehow, as if they were always there. But she
can tell how they literally stick out, like part of another reality forcing
itself into this one. No-one else, till yesterday, wanted to believe her
theory that they were anything but part of the natural process, a quirk in
nature. But, till yesterday, they never had an earthquake and high winds
hitting them together. A minor earthquake, perhaps, but its effect on the
unprepared small town together with the strong, deadly winds had damaged so
much, and injured, even killed, so many.
Brushing her long dark brown hair out of her face as a sudden cold
wind threatens to push her off her balance, she gazes blankly with her hazel
eyes up at the fair sky and feels like screaming. She doesn't want to look
down at where her peaceful town had once bustled with market activity at
this time in the morning. Now, she knows it holds wrecked houses and flats
and buildings and shocked people scavenging for their possessions and
people.
Just the memory of last night sends a frosty chill shivering down her
stiff spine: rumblings and rockings as she woke in her bed for the last
time; judderings and creaks as the roof began to give way to the wind and
the shaking house; her father grabbing her sleepy form and dragging her
outside somehow; running shakily down the street as their house collapsed
behind them; avoiding the rips in the streets and the falling lampposts and
rubble, always seconds from instant death but always avoiding it while
watching those who weren't so lucky....
She just wants to scream but that will do little good for anyone.
Instead, tears glide quietly down her pale, cold cheeks and she grips a
borrowed jacket closer to her as the shivers continue. This shouldn't have
happened, this disaster. Her town always seems to avoid earthquakes, always
so lucky. Winds are always so light in spring and summer, this area an
anomaly as far as the country's normal weather patterns are concerned, till
now. It isn't right, it doesn't fit into reality. And now these strange
events are hurting and killing people, killed her only friends and nearly
killed her and her father. She was nearly made an orphan and still could be,
if the situation gets any worse.
She takes one last long look at the shell-shocked village that she
spent her whole life in, up until now. If only they believed her when
there was still time to save everyone, listened to her theories, didn't
dismiss her haunting nightmares as rubbish, then perhaps....
"Goodbye," she whispers to the wind. "Goodbye, Dad." Turning her head
away from her past, from where her father's helping with the rescue efforts,
she walks carefully across the smooth but rugged hills. Whoever or whatever
did this will pay, will know her grief a hundred-fold over.
=
"I don't believe this! What kind of illusion is this?!Trying to make
fun of my troubled life?!"
Sleeping with blank dreams, a pyjama-clad Akane pulls up her covers
instinctively, unaware of the figure standing beside her bed. Suddenly,
something cold presses sharply against her neck. So cold!
"Get up and get up now!" a harsh but in some way familiar voice orders
the sleepy girl.
Akane's eyes snap open as the sharp object threatens to pierce her
skin. Sleepiness fades rapidly as she realises what's against her throat: a
knife, a long knife that she can see glinting in the relative darkness.
Without a second thought, she lunges for the weapon. The figure's free hand
knocks her hand back and slams a fist into her chest. Barely able to gasp,
Akane is sent right at her bedside wall and expects more pain to hit her at
any moment, only for nothing to come as the wall disappears and she instead
falls to a warm, hard ground.
"Unh!" she cries as she impacts with it. Quickly scrabbling up, she
stiffens into a defensive position, trying to sort out in her head what's
going on and coming up with few believable answers. Adjusting her eyes to
the beam of light directly above her, she stares at her strange
surroundings. Her bed lies only a few metres away, with her window and
curtains nearby but no floor, no ceiling and no walls. In fact, the
half-hidden moon almost seems to be hanging in the part-room itself, but
lights it only slightly. To her right is a strange mist, edging closer and
closer to the area and to her left is a grassy knell encased in sunlight.
She looks up, but all she can see is a blinding light, stinging her eyes
with colour.
"Tell me who or what you are!" The figure stands, fists out, at the
edge of the grassy knell.
Akane circles on the spot, her untied hair strangling some of her
vision as it wraps around her head.
"Who am I? Who am I?!" she shouts, unsure and angry and scared of
whoever it is, her eyes wide open as she tucks back her hair. "Who are
you?!" Focusing her eyes, her heart beats so very loudly against her chest
as if it is trying to escape from this nightmare, she sees a recognisable
but different person. Their body is nothing but a black shape, as if the
sun hangs behind them but... it doesn't. But the curves, the stance and the
deep, distinctive eyes that appeal against the darkness of the body
itself.... No! It can't be! It isn't possible! It isn't possible!
"You know very well who I am, illusion, figment of my imagination,
whatever you are!"
"You're me!" Akane gasped, stunned and frozen, though the blood in her
veins tumbled and rushed like a rollercoaster. "Is this a dream?"
"Ha! Don't expect me to buy that line after all I've been through!"
The figure stomps over to her, rushing into the new burst of light and
abruptly coming into clarity, the darkness seeping from her body.
Akane steps back, still tense and shocked, and raises her fists
hesitantly as she examines what appears to be herself. There are a few
differences between her and me, she notes to herself as she oddly becomes
calm. The other one wears a bright yellow sports suit, looks much wearier
and the hair's cut into a severe bob like Nabiki's. But of course it isn't
Nabiki, it's herself. Now, how strange does that sound?!
The other her moves closer and closer, faster than Akane can move
back. Cold, short puffs of breath touch Akane's cheek as her other self's
face, ragged and eternally downcast but full of passionate grimace, comes
within centimetres of her own. The alternative Akane's eyes are full of
confusion and panic despite her aggressive front.
"I don't know what your problem is," she sharply speaks to her strange
double. "If you'd just calm down, I--"
"I knew it." The alternative Akane points a finger straight at
Akane's forehead. "I knew you weren't me from before; I wasn't the
diplomatic type."
"Well, you, I am now and I'd appreciate an explanation of where I am
and what I'm doing here. Last thing I knew I was sleeping in my bed quite
happily!" Akane finds her temper buckling under and threatening to retreat
for good.
"Yeah right." The alternative Akane scowls, crossing her arms in
blatant disbelief. "Well, I'm fed up with being held up by you. Just clear
this time-wasting mirage and let me finish this big mess once and for
_all_."
"Well, pardon _me_!!" Akane's temper takes an extended vacation and
she roughly shoves the alternative Akane back and back, onto the grassy
knoll and towards another encroaching mist. "Who woke up who?!" Another
shove. "Who shouted at who?!" An even bigger shove. "Who put a _knife_ at
whose innocent throat, huh??!!" She prepared to shove some more but
no-one's there and she staggers forward, barely keeping her balance. The
mist is so near to her and it seems so cold and yet so hot, fearful and yet
so comforting, so inviting.... So inviting and so near....
As she falls happily into it, a hand grabs her arm from behind and
drags her back, the need for the mist weakening with each scuffle of her
heels. The tight, strong arm releases its grip and Akane turns round to
face her double, whose face is slowly softening but still with a tense
suspiciousness at its fringes.
"Hmm? What?" Akane stumbles mentally back to the reality she is in
and realises that her double doesn't look so angry anymore. Her own anger
is gone too, having disappeared as the mist touched her.
"No illusion would risk vanishing in the mist. You really are me,"
the alternative Akane quietly states, cocking her head as she seems to
examine Akane. "But I don't remember you. Why is that? I seem to be
remembering less and less as I go on. Only the thought of him keeps me
going. I can only wish that...."
"That, what?" Akane asks in bemusement.
The alternative Akane shakes her head sadly, her gaze falling to the
ground. "Nothing.... Are you my past or my future or my present or are you
from another reality? In these times, all four could be possible."
"Huh?"
"Well, that rules out my future and my present." The other Akane
smiles wryly. "Possibly. Since my memory could be so easily wiped again, if
I get through this." She steps closer to Akane, wary of something that
Akane is not. "But I don't want that to happen, not again."
A sudden wash of realisation comes over Akane, like a rainstorm
cleaning the streets of excess litter, and her eyes flash with a questioning
gaze. "Memory wipe?"
"Yes, for so long I didn't know and then...." A few tears emerge from
the alternative Akane's eyes and a slight, bittersweet smirk touches her
lips. "Then...."
"Tell me what you're talking about," Akane interrupts impatiently.
"You must be connected to my dreams, somehow." A sudden sense of danger
sweeps over Akane and she sees the mist entangle the foot of the alternative
Akane. "Wa--"
"You know about the dreams?" the alternative Akane asks, wide-eyed and
unaware of the mist ensnaring her legs and her body.
"Watch out!" Akane shouts, grabbing her double but with no success as
her hand goes right through and finds only empty space. The whole area
changes to endless white and she can hear a fading scream erupt through the
nothing but disappear suddenly with no echoes resounding. Is that the
double's scream?
Akane blinks involuntarily and the whiteness vanishes to be replaced
with a dark city street, punctuated by the glow of street lights. She
stands still on the pavement for a few minutes, silent in thought. No
traffic or pedestrians pass down the deserted street and all the houses'
lights are turned off. Akane is completely alone but feels somehow not.
"Is she really what I'm going to be? Is she? Or is she...?" Akane
looks around the odd street, half-wondering how she got there. "...Unreal?"
Unusually, the night is quite warm, no chills, no cold breezes. She
starts to stride along the pavement, only the glint sparked by the lights
keeps her from stepping on broken glass. The straight, sloping road seems
to go on forever, more and more buildings appearing as she keeps trying to
get to the end of the street where surely a phone box will be. Still no cars
pass by her -- very strange for Tokyo, if it _is_ Tokyo.
"Where am I?" she says out loud, meeting stifling silence. There are
no landmarks in view, just an endless street. "Where is this?" The sudden
blaze of the moon and the stars comforts her little; instead she feels as if
she's being put on a spotlight. But what for? Her head jerks around as
soft noises come from nowhere and end in nowhere, seemingly sourceless.
Alleyways jutting off the street are carved out by raw black. Akane would
take the strange, swallowing mist over this any day or night. It is just
too... too....
As she keeps on wandering through the streets, a spark of colour and
light catches the edge of her eye. On the other side of the street, a
fairly large temple is sandwiched between two, tall faceless buildings,
decorated with ancient symbols and decorations, full of bold colour and
texture. The roofs curve off gracefully like a bird's wings. It looks like
a giant Christmas tree, but a very special, beautiful one. A large entrance,
with the promise of pure light, beckons her forward. It just seems so out
of place, so jarring with the bleak, ebony landscape surrounding. A force
inside her drags her up to the entrance of the surreal temple. Surely she
should recognise it? A sight this compelling but out-of-place?
"So compelling," she whispers as she places a hand on the warm door
and gently pushes it open. Her eyes, braced for what they thought would be
bright light, instead encounter a soft, unassuming glow lighted by lamps
hanging from the sides of the temple. The temple is one big hall with a
tall, tall ceiling and a skylight at the top, letting in the night air.
Small paintings of various gods hang in between the lamps and as Akane
follows them round, she discovers that the deities are not limited to those
of Japan, or even Asia.
Her eyes rest on the Buddha statue at the opposite side of the
entrance. Candles surround it, illuminating the still figure bowing in
front of the statue, praying. His clothes seem dirty and worn but not
ragged. His hair is black, lightened only by a white bandanna tying at the
back of it. Somehow, the bandanna does not sit right on the person who
prays in a loud voice, unaware of her presence. Even across the vast hall,
she can tell that he's male, an old teenager the same age as herself.
Another thing to add to my list of weird, she mutters inside her head. She
pads silently across the warm, wooden floor, stopping in the centre as the
moonlight filtered through the small skylight falls across her. Despite her
conscience, she listens in to the prayer that the teenager is making.
"Oh, please let it not be her. Not her, of all people," he pleads,
his face still hidden. His voice seems familiar but much lower, more
masculine and older than before. Before what? Akane doesn't know. "She
can't remember, it isn't fair! It isn't fair for anyone to remember. It's
my burden and I must carry it. Memories of the real truth can only
interfere in reality, reality can't handle any more than me -- the only one
who knows. I'm the foreign body infecting it. Don't let the Earth bleed
again, like the old man said it would. I'm asking you with everything I've
got, please!" His voice wavers and breaks with much anguish. He stops
talking and starts to cry, his voice all hoarse and choking: "Please! If...
if she was to know, to get i-involved in this mess, i-if Akane--"
"Me?!" she gasps out involuntarily. No, no, it must be another Akane,
another, there were loads of Akane's in Tokyo and now she's ruined a private
prayer of someone in so much obvious pain. "I'm sorry, I--"
He spins around, his eyes as wide as her, and abruptly falls back, as
if struck by lightning. Barely avoiding the candles, he steadies himself,
unable to take his eyes off hers. His eyes, his soulful dark eyes, haven't
changed since she last saw him, whenever that was. But how...? How, how
does she know him and yet not know him?
"Akane!" he cries in white shock, his voice higher than before. He
rubs his eyes and blinks, obviously unable to believe she's there. The
feeling, as far as Akane's concerned, is mutual. "Akane! Akane! It can't
be you, Akane! No! What're you doing here?! What?! What?!"
"I don't know," she whispers, barely speaking, her chest tightening
painfully.
"It's a dream, a bad dream, a nightmare, a horrid nightmare!" He
stands up tall, his legs shaking slightly, his lips trembling and his face
as pale as death. Slowly, he backs away, looking at her with untamed
horror. "But I don't have bad dreams, everything that happens to me is
real, or unreal but no dreams, just voices, just bad voices! You must be
real but not here, oh why here?!"
Adjusting to the shock, Akane's heart rate starts to stabilise, still
erratic but not dangerously out of control. The guy backs away farther into
the shadows as she runs towards him.
"Why do I know you? Why d'you know me?!" she cries out. He's still
shaking and his eyes are locked with hers as she gains on him. He seems to
want to go away, Akane thinks, but he's still here, looking at me strangely?
Why?
She stands a metre away, looking up at him, realising how much taller
he is than her. He looks much older, his face too weary and worn for a
normal 18-year-old but Akane knows he's not more than a few months older
than her, she knows.
For a few seconds, there's silence as Akane feels the stranger's eyes
gazing deeply into hers, captured by her for some reason. He looks almost
spellbound as his eyes lose focus. But in them lies a haunted, stricken
quality that stands out in the fuzziness like a war wound. "Akane, I'm
sorry," he says, so quietly she can barely tell what he has said.
"Tell me why you're sorry. What for?" Her eyes focus more closely on
his, filling her with feelings of deja-vu.
"I'm s-sorry," he chokes out, his skin glistening as tears wet them.
Suddenly, he dives past her, unable to look back as he heads for the
entrance. Akane immediately starts to follow him, running as fast as she
can to keep up as she dashes back into the street. She stops to have a look
around, her eyes widening in the sudden dark, but can see no trace of him
except for faint footsteps that echo around the empty street.
"Rrrrrrghhh!! Where have you gone?!" she screams in frustration. The
cool, night air blasts into her open mouth with a vengeance, as if it has
always been there. "Come back here, right now!" Her tirade's broken off by
the sound of an engine and the glare of headlights. A car pulls up beside
her and she steps back in fright, secretly afraid of the strange car.
"What? A police car? Oh, thank god!"
A head pops out of a rolled-down window and glances up at her with
concern. "Ma'am?" a young voice asks. "Are you all right?"
"N-no, I'm lost, I don't know where I am or how I got here. You've
got to help me get back home."
The policeman sitting beside the young driver starts to speak to him,
distracting him from the lost girl. After a few cold moments, the two
discuss something Akane can't quite hear. Then, he turns back to her. "Are
you Akane Tendo of the Tendo Dojo?"
"Yeah? Why?"
The policeman smiles up at her, relief pouring over his face. "Your
family's been really worried about you. Please, sit in the back, the door's
open."
"Eh?" The confused Akane does just that and flops onto the back seat,
enjoying the rest and the comfort. "You were looking for me? But I�ve only
been gone for a few hours, at the most."
The young driver turns back his head towards the backseat, as confused
as Akane. "Miss Tendo, you've been missing for over three days."
"Three days?!"
=
You know what you must do.
I know, I know, but it's hard to even think about it.
But, oh, you dear, sweet girl, you know that it's the best for all
mankind.
But it seems so drastic.
Think of your friends, think of all of those who died and who will
die.
You're right. Are you sure that They are the cause?
I have no reason to lie to you, you know that I only have your best
interests at heart.
Well....
Have I ever lied to you, have I ever betrayed you, didn't I try to
help your town?
I guess so....
They are trying to stop the world from finding its cure to stop the
tragedy, They killed your friends, knowing that but They don't care. If it
benefits Them, if it brings Them power, They don't care what tragedy is
wrought.
Yes, I believe you, I will stop Them, I will. At any cost!
"At any cost!" she cries out loud, waking herself up. Her long dark
hair spills out in all directions as she sits up, yawning and still a
little weary. The darkness surrounds her tent and infects it but it soothes
her sensitive eyes and she yawns again. "Man, I didn't get much sleep," she
mumbles, looking at her glow-in-the-dark watch. "Only a few hours at the
most. Oh well, if I'm up, I'm up." She takes a few things out of her bag,
opening a plastic box and eating what's inside. For a few moments, she
stops eating, peering into the darkness as she sits on her comfortable
sleeping bag. Her eyes are sad and downcast, her long lashes blinking away
the tears.
"I wonder if these two people realise that in a few hours they will be
dead, that I'll have killed them. They are hurting so many people but,
still... to kill as they have...." Words from the dream voice spark in her
mind: 'They killed your friends. They don't care.' That's right, her only
friends, the only ones who played with her when she was little, who didn't
make fun of her, are dead. Dead. Tears bubble up in the corners of her
eyes as her mind pictures running past her friends' houses, dragged by her
dad as she heard them scream from inside, trapped. She saw the houses
collapse into rubble when she turned back to look. Oh, god, it hurts so
much just thinking about it! Everything hurts! Her life, her memories and
her conscience, dragging her two ways and ripping her apart.
"No," she chokes, tears in her eyes betraying her stoic countenance,
"I c-can't have doubts, not now. They must die or I know I will." She
crawls out of the tent and stares up at the night sky, stabbed with silvery
stars. "Tonight."
=
"Mrrrow!"
"Nice to see you, too, Ne-chan." The bedroom's soft light welcomes
Akane as she steps inside. No-one but the cat and her. Schoolbooks lie on
the desk, comics intermingled in the tidy mess. Her cupboard doors open,
revealing school clothes and girlie casual wear. Ne-chan purrs happily in
her arms, snuggling up to the soft material of Akane�s pyjamas. All
perfectly normal for her and the life she leads.
Oh, it just makes her want to scream!
Nothing is clear-cut, nothing is right, nothing is wrong, no,
everything is wrong!
Reality isn't what she thought it is and more and more, the
strangeness seems to pop out of nowhere and attack her senses, her memories,
her perceptions. And the only who might have the answers ran away from her.
The only who can tell her that she's not mad, that something is happening,
obviously wants nothing to with her.
She flops down her bed, cradling her pet in her hands and relishes the
soft, plump mattress that happily greets her body. The ceiling becomes so
interesting to her eyes and Ne-chan curls up under one of arms. All so
perfect. Rrrrrrghhh!
Three days. Missing for three days. When she still feels so sure
that it was an hour at the most. If it isn't for the cuts and dirt on her
feet, she would easily believe it to be a dream. But memory of the stinging
sensation as Kasumi applied disinfectant to Akane's weary feet leaves out
that option. Then again, memories haven't served her well. A small bitter
laugh bubbles out of her throat.
"At least the police bit is over with, eh Ne-chan? All that
questioning."
"Prrrrrr...."
"You're right, what was I supposed to tell them? Where have I been?
Oh, well I got into a fight with my alternative or future self in a place
that was the stuff of hallucinations. Then I encountered what looked like
oblivion."
"Prrrr-rrr...."
"Yeah, Ne-chan, how would I know what oblivion looks like?" She
frowns a little frown as she stares up at the shadowed ceiling, hiding and
accentuating parts of the subtle pattern engraved on it. "It's strange how
the policeman didn't remember the temple. For heaven's sake, I was standing
right outside it! How could anyone be dumb enough to miss it?" Suddenly
the shadows seem to grow into more defined shapes, as if someone's stalking
across the room with a knife in their hand. Akane blinks. The shadows go
back to normal.
"Nothing fits, nothing makes sense," Akane speaks softly, her eyes
slowly closing to more darkness. "Something's going to happen, I know it,
something... is... is...." Falling into unconsciousness, her small frown
dissolves into its own oblivion. Ten minutes later, Ne-chan slips into his
basket by the side of the bed, his owner captured completely by sleep.
Twenty minutes later, Kasumi comes upstairs and tucks a barely responsive
Akane in tight, turning on the small lamp but switching off the main light.
For a few moments, she watches her little sister, relief ripe on her smiling
face. After a small yawn, she reluctantly leaves the room. The door's left
open. Wide open.
Sleeping a dreamless sleep, Akane mumbles one word over and over.
Darkness seems to lie on the night sky forever. One of the shadows on the
walls grows and expands, gaining a detailed, ruffled outline. A moving
outline. The shadow creeps across the silent room, the household now silent,
too. No sounds but the soft snoring of Ne-chan and the mumbling of an
eighteen-year-old girl. No light except for the small lamp appealing for
mercy against the dusky dark of the room and the house. The shadow holds a
sharp object, perhaps a knife, perhaps not.
Trembling slightly, the shadow moves ever closer to the bed. Her face
becomes clear in the glow of the lamp -- a grim, firm face with hair tied
sternly back from it. Short, sharp breaths snap across her still lips.
Each step the figure takes is slow and silent.
This is something that has to be done, the figure knows that, she
knows. But studying the sleeping girl's features in the cough of light
afforded by the lamp, the figure can't see a trace of evil in the face. No
slightly upturned, sly grin, no strange make-up on her skin or decorations
or ornaments hanging surrealy in the shadows of the bedroom. Optimistic
patches of different colours pattern the girl's bedspread. How can anyone
be more innocent? How can she kill someone so innocent? A tear falls from
the figure's face and soundlessly taps against the deadly weapon she holds.
How...?
Having doubts, dear ally?
But one of Them is a girl, a teenage girl! She can't possibly be one
of Them!
And what did you expect, a stamp on her head declaring her evil?
But, she looks so....
A true villain comes in all shapes and sizes and is never what they
appear to be.
But a defenceless girl?
What better disguise? Listen to the word she speaks. You'll know what
to do.
The figure is bemused by that last comment and leans in, trying to make
out the girl's mumbles. A small laugh emanates around the back of the
figure's head but she seems not to hear it. Suddenly, her eyes widen and
her pupils disappear behind a cloud of ebony covering them. The eyes stay
wide and transfixed and she raises the sharp, thin object into the air. Her
grip around it tightens and the muscles tense, ready to strike the sleeping
Akane. A grim smile slashes across the figure's face and the object glints
in the bare light, streaking down to Akane's chest.
Without warning, the sharp object vanishes from the figure's hands and
Akane's eyes shoot open. A soundless scream from Akane clears the dark
smoke in the figure's eyes. The figure, a young woman no older than Akane,
looks as shocked as her.
"Huh?" the figure gasps, a sharp pain striking her head and ending her
confusion.
Akane, hardly able to believe what has happened, watches the female
figure drop to the ground. She looks up, seeing the half-shadowed face of
the striker, and gasps sharply.
"It's you!" she whispers in shock. "From the temple!"
The striker, his short, wild hair held back by the bandanna, doesn't
seem to hear her words. He stares harshly down at the slumped, unconscious
female on the floor and snarls. His fist is held in the air where he hit
the figure. Akane can tell that his growls are holding back a berserker
temper, one threatening to let loose a violence as unrelenting as his stare.
"I will," he suddenly says, his voice deathly calm, "never let you
hurt Akane. Never." His trembling fist hangs like an axe in the air but he
doesn�t move it for what seems like forever. With a few long, deep breaths,
he kneels to the floor and buries his head in his hands for a few moments.
Akane�s hand instinctively flicks her long hair out of her face as she
silently watches the strange behaviour.
Her clock ticks away in the background and to her it strangely seems
like a countdown.
�I have to be able to do this,� he whispers to himself as his large,
strong hands come away from his head. Abruptly, his hand flashes out to the
slumped figure and he picks her up by the nape of her collar,
unceremoniously dumping her over one of his shoulders as he stands up,
turning around to the door. A flash of pale ribbon from the figure�s hair
drops over the striker�s shoulder. A pale ribbon?
�Wait!� Akane cries as she suddenly jumps out of her bed and runs
towards him. At the last second, he dodges and she stumbles forward into
the corridor. Just as she is about to crash into the wall, a hand grabs her
arm and pulls her back. �Ah!� A shock of electricity jumps up her spine as
a tumble of emotions crashes into her, tumbling around her body and her
mind. A name gasps from her lips as she spins around to face the striker:
�Ryoga?�
The striker steps back from her, his eyes wide with fear and shock.
�Oh, no. No, no, no, not this.� He steps back farther as she comes nearer.
Soon, he is backed up against the desk, the figure�s head slumped down the
front of his chest. �No, no, no, what I have done? What have I done?!�
�I... I know you, I really know you,� Akane whispers breathily,
wonderment and realisation capturing her awake, alert face. �But nothing
fits with this memory, my memory doesn�t remember seeing you before tonight
and, yet, I feel I know you so much better than that. You have a dog called
Checkers, you�re good at martial arts and you have a terrible sense of
direction but I�ve never watched you show any fighting skill till this
night, I�ve visited no dogs but the one next door and I�ve never seen you
get lost. Why do I know you, Ryoga? Tell me, _please_!� Her large,
pleading eyes stare up at him and she can see him open his mouth several
times, saying nothing each time.
�A-Akane, I-I... can�t,� he stammers anxiously and slowly, tugging at
his collar with his free hand, �tell you anything. I ask of you to try
and remember... nothing more, please t-try. Believe me, it is for the best.
You have to believe me, please don�t remember anything else.�
�Why should I?�
He looks away from her, his expression a strange one of melancholy
hesitancy. �If I told you,� he says quietly, �you would know.�
�You�re not making any sense.� Growing impatient to know the truth,
Akane�s face grows as stern and determined as she can make it look. �What�s
wrong with telling me? I know there�s something you know that I don�t.�
A small, bittersweet smile pulls at his lips but soon gives up.
Still, he doesn�t look at her. �And you�re better off that way. Forget
about knowing the truth, reality is better off being composed of fake
perceptions of itself.�
�Just stop with riddles and tell me what you�re talking about!� she
whispers furiously, her fists clenching and her temperature rising.
�But, I wasn�t telling ri... oh, it really doesn�t matter.� Slowly, he
lifts his head for his eyes to meet her stare. But he isn�t looking at her,
he�s looking through her, thinking of something far from here. Far from her,
she can tell. The hurt and the pain once shown only in his eyes spreads
throughout his whole face and his eyebrows curve into sadness.
Akane studies his stricken face and her anger dies like the sun in
the night sky. Now that she remembers what he looked like when he was
young, she sees a face too old and weary to really be his. What is wrong?
Why is he so sad? Why is a friend of hers, that she remembers but doesn�t
remember, so upset, so guilty?
�Ryoga...?� she says softly.
�Akane....� His eyes regain some focus and looks at her in a very
disturbing way. The stricken face, the heavy weight he seems to carry in
his soul, the slow, reluctant speech... to Akane, it is just as if he�s
Kasumi ten years ago, coming into her room to tell her about Mom�s sudden
death. Flinching, she averts her eyes from his, unhappy with the parallel.
�If you knew what I�ve known for so long, you would be as broken as I am and
I couldn�t b-bear to see y-you like that. There are truths betters left
unsaid for everyone. There�s too much at risk to tell you anymore than
this. If you recall too much, then... the consequences will be...
d-disastrous for everyone.�
�That�s not true,� she answers quietly, �not true. If I don�t remember
anymore, I have this strong feeling something bad is going to happen, the
voice in the dream told me, he-�
�He?� Ryoga interrupts in a low but unreadable voice.
She wonders whether to tell him something so secret. Yet, she can tell
that he would never hurt her or betray her. Plus, he might hold the key to
the dreams. �In one of my dreams, there was this voice, this male voice who
told me that he would protect me.�
Ryoga�s face darkens even further, a darkness not borne entirely out of
sadness. Anger, guilt, shock and recognition stings his features in
contradiction.
�There was also this grey mist and unending darkness that seemed to
bear terror and the inevitability of something horrid. I was so scared but
the voice soothed me. Do you know why, Ryoga?� Her eyes, filling with
trepidation, try to appeal to her strange friend.
�If you don�t do anything, you needn�t worry about the inevitability,�
he says to her in a kindly, caring tone of voice.
She moves closer to him, the light from the lamp tripping over her
pale, tired face.
�The voice, I knew the voice, I trusted the voice and I believe he was
trying to warn me about something,� she suddenly says back to him after a
few long moments of dark blue silence. �He wouldn�t have contacted me to
cause me or anyone else harm, I know.�
�You don�t believe me,� Ryoga replies flatly, with only a slight tremor
in his tone revealing dark feelings.
�I... I....� Akane takes a few deep breaths, finding it hard to blurt
it out to her friend, for some reason. �I�m in love with whoever owns that
voice and the emotions are real, I know they are.�
�In love...?� his voice croaks weakly in shock and obvious horror.
Suddenly he finds the door very interesting. �In love.� Sighing rather
wistfully and regretfully, Ryoga starts to walk past her, trying not to look
at her with great difficulty. �I should have known.� As he traipses
sluggishly into the hall, he mumbles something too quiet for her to hear.
�What did you say?� she asks with much curiosity, her attention
peaking.
�The voice is unreal, ignore it. It cannot be real, ever.�
�Why do you think that? It was real, I know it was.� Blocking his
way, Akane looks up at the taller, stronger Ryoga. �Tell me why you think
the voice can�t exist.�
That look, the Kasumi look, washes over his face like a sudden shower
of rain. Oh, god, not that face....
�The one you seem to be... thinking of will never be here, ever again.�
His eyes slip forward to his path in the hall as he speaks slowly, and this
time, loudly. �He is no longer able to be.� Without any warning, he
sprints down the stairs, leaving a bemused Akane standing, shivering in the
cold night air breathing through the house.
�What can he mean by that?� she speaks to the empty corridor. Tears
flow down her face and she doesn�t know why. Suddenly, she remembers the
pale ribbon in the girl�s hair and dashes downstairs and out the front door.
The strangely cold night air of summer slaps her skin but she doesn�t care.
�Ryoga? Ryoga?! Where are you?! I need to know who that girl is and what
you�re talking about!!� Only the slight breeze and the eerie glow of the
streetlights greet her in the silence, with very faint humming of traffic in
the distance. �What do you mean the voice isn�t real?! Ryoga!�
Abruptly, the lights explode in a glittering display of sparks and
electricity, like a thousand shining butterflies flying into oblivion. They
disappear just as quickly as they appeared, leaving the lamposts headless
and Akane in darkness.
�What just happened?� She leans back against the house wall in shock,
staring in horror at the now unlit street. No-one moves in the dark houses,
no lights switch on to investigate the noise. Weird.
Shaking her head in puzzlement and weariness, she stumbles back into
the house, closing the door behind her. Her eyes squint as harsh light
drowns her view and warmth covers her like a veil. She looks forward and
sees Kasumi, fully clothed and with an apron on, standing at the bottom of
the stairs shouting: �Akane! Breakfast is ready! Akane? Akane?!�
�Kasumi?� she queries in bemusement as she walks to the stairs. �What
are you doing up making breakfast so early?�
�Oh, there you are!� Kasumi sighs in relief, holding a hand to her
chest. �For a moment, I thought... oh, well... it�s nothing. Shouldn�t you
get a dressing gown on before going for some breakfast?�
�Breakfast at this time?�
�It�s eight-thirty. Was that too early for you?�
�Uhhm... eight-thirty in the morning? Now?�
Kasumi nods in the positive. Unsure of what to think, once so sure
that it�s night time, Akane runs back to the front door and opens it,
expecting to see darkness. But it isn�t. Full, sunny, bursting bright
morning light dances around the wisps of white cloud. Morning?! But it�s
night!
�Akane, what is the matter?� Kasumi asks, looking out of the door to
try and see what her younger sister has seen that�s so interesting.
�Far too much, Kasumi, that�s what.� Akane studies the sky, thinking of
the words Ryoga said and wondering what to think of them. �Far too much is
the matter.�
=
End of chapter 2.
"There is absolutely no criterion for truth. For reason, senses, ideas, or
whatever else may exist are all deceptive." ~Carneades~
A li'l bit of easy cut'n past C&C to help out those busy C&C'er(s)!
1) I hate this story! It sucks! (because...?)
2) I couldn't care less what happened either way.
3) I like this story but it needs improvement with regard to X (i.e.
characterisation, atmosphere, grammar, writing).
4) I think X's characterisation is OOC because...
5) It still needs more/ less subtlety regarding the future plot line.
6) The new character is obvious/ not obvious/ a welcome piece to this
puzzle/ terrible and should be got rid of.
7) More of ..... is/ are needed.
8) Less of ..... is/ are needed.
9) Anything on grammar and punctuation.
10) The colour of the main characters' eyes are...*
*I haven't been able to watch the anime, only the black and white manga,
BTW.
11) Here are some possibilities for ideas for the story....
12) Anything else you can think of that wasn't included, etc. :-)
~Kayu-chan.