Credits: Tenchi Muyo!/No Need For Tenchi is a product of
Pioneer/AIC. As such, I'm getting no compensation for writing this
fiction other than my own enjoyment, because the thought of getting
sued is rather unpleasant.
James O'Barr for his contemporary conceptualization of ancient myth
as seen in "The Crow". Aside from the actual bird, no specific events
or characters from his graphic novel have been used in this story.
Disclaimer: All characters *I* have created are purely a work of
fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is pure coincidence.
Anyone who thinks otherwise is probably just itching for a fight.
Also, please do not try and distribute this story in some lame attempt
to make a buck; it would be bad karma to say the least.
Comments and Criticisms appreciated!
Send them to Michael McAvoy (mmcavoy@ejourney.com)
http://members.xoom.com/mmcavoy/
Tenchi Muyo!
"Iniquitous Angel"
A Fan-Fiction by Michael McAvoy
I used to believe in a lot of things when I was very little. a
lot of things that made sense to me back then. They were simple
ideas, but now I am not so sure of them anymore. Maybe I will not be
sure ever again. It is so hard to tell.
Even now, the memories are fading. The ache and the hurt
are getting more and more dull. Sometimes... sometimes I think that
is a good thing. After all, we are not meant to remember pain. We
can remember that we were in pain and still feel the edges of it, but
the
clarity and sharpness of hurt and suffering fall away from most of us
in time. Yes, it is a good thing, but with the pain also goes my fond
memories of them... of him...
I still miss you so. I wish you would not fade, but I know you
must...
Sister Ayeka feels the same, but she tries to be brave about it,
making a mask of happiness I know she can not feel. At least, I hope
she does not feel so happy as she pretends. I do not want to believe
that sister could forget so easily, but it is hard to know with her. I
try
to talk with her about what went on in the palace, but... but she only
gets angry and walks away from me. I guess she really does want the
memories to fade as fast as they can.
And Tsunami has no answers for me. I can reach into myself
and find her there, silent and troubled by my questions. She has no
answers... and I think that bothers her more than it does me.
Tsunami's silence opens a window of understanding, though, that
maybe she is not all knowing and powerful as we give her credit for.
Because what happened to me... what happened to them... it was all
beyond her realm of control. Something that moved from Earth to
Jurai... not by science or by an energy, but by some mysterious spirit
outside of our normal perception.
Something universal.
Something ancient.
I never thought I would see you again, and I know we will
never meet again in this life, but I want to think we will all be
together
again after I am done here. But... it is such a long time for me, so
many years. I wonder if I will be able to remember you when my time
is done? If I can keep the love in my heart for you both forever, then
maybe we will all be reunited again... somewhere... sometime.
I can only hope.
My new friend misses you very much, too. Her hurt is as
deep as yours was, I think, but she takes strength from how you
changed her life. She does not know what she will do, now that she is
an orphan, but we are very close, so I will not let anything hurt her
again, I swear. I have always needed a friend like this... Thank you
for bringing her into my life.
We will visit you both on Earth soon, I promise. We will sit
out on the grass and talk the day away, so you can know we are both
all right. And even though you will not be able to speak, we know you
will hear us.
And knowing will be enough.
* * * * * * * *
Don't look don't look! This shadow's free,
Whispering me away from you.
Don't wake at night to watch her sleep;
You know that you will always lose.
Don't talk of love; this shadow's burned,
Burning me away from you.
Don't talk of worlds that never were;
The end is always ever true.
-- The Cure
The world was hard, frozen, and bathed in a heavy darkness
that draped over the land. Across rolling mountains, trees stripped of
their foliage bent and twisted in a savage wind that raked with a
howling ferocity. Clouds above, boiling in the inky blackness of night,
they released their burden in the form of sharp and harsh fits of snow.
It was a terrible winter, punctuating the drawing days of a year and
offering little hope for the coming one. And yet, there was no purpose,
no higher meaning or agenda to explain the violence of the winter
night. It was simply a night, nothing more. Only unfortunate
humans, trapped within their isolated dwellings, perched on the sides
of the mountaintops, had the imaginations to believe otherwise.
Riding the desperate winds of the storm, a form was barely
contrasted against the midnight colored clouds. With a wingspan and
body size inordinately large for its species, a crow, wrapped in
feathers
of black, steered the ripping currents of air with purpose and ease.
Slicing through the wind and ice as if it were not even there, the huge
bird, as large as the mightiest of ravens, careened across the ridges
and
through the valleys with intense purpose.
Dropping suddenly, the crow sliced downwards, plummeting
towards an exposed ridge that lifted from the side of a mountain.
Arcing through whipping trees that lined the ridge, the crow erupted
its wings violently, all but halting its descent. With several mighty
thrusts of its wings, the crow finally alighted upon a monument made
of stone. Pivoting around on top of the monument, it's feathers
constantly buffeted by the winter gale, the massive bird considered the
other monuments that lined either side of the one on which it was
perched. Equally as large and solemn as the dark stone the crow was
on, there was another one to its left and two to its right. In the
darkness of night, it was impossible to see the inscriptions upon them,
but the crow was certain it was on the right marker.
It *knew*.
Beginning to thrash its wings violently again, the crow
scratched at the stone top of the monument with its razor sharp claws.
Reaching into the beyond, the crow called.
The crow commanded.
* * *
Ryoko wrapped herself a little more deeply into the thick coat
she was wearing. Wrinkling her nose at the cold air without effect,
she once again wished Earthlings would progress to the point where
they could actually control their weather. The sun was shining, but it
was freezing. How could they stand this? Reaching past her collar
with one hand, she fingered the velvet choker around her neck that
Washu had lent her again.
"Teeeenchi," she whined a little, moving down a sidewalk
with a bag in her other hand, "do we *have* to be out here in the
cold?"
Tenchi looked over from where he was walking beside the
pirate and raised an eyebrow. "Well, Ryoko, the only way to get to the
orphanage is to walk," he replied, "You didn't have to come, you
know. Princess Ayeka and Sasami decided against coming out."
"I know, I know," grumbled Ryoko, "naturally, the only time
I could get Ayeka to not complain about me going somewhere with
you is if it`s freezing out."
Ryoko removed her free hand from her neck and sighed. It
would be so easy for her to remove the choker and have access to her
powers again. but she shook her head. Her enthusiasm for Tenchi,
coupled with her amazing abilities, always ended up ruining things
every time she felt she was just starting to break through to him. No,
Ryoko felt it was necessary to limit her powers until she could learn to
control them better.
Ryoko smiled at that thought, drawing more warmth from the
coat. In the entire galaxy, only Tenchi could possibly have the chance
of making Ryoko even consider restraint.
"Have you done this a lot?" Ryoko asked Tenchi as they
continued to walk, "Given presents for some of the orphans at
Christmas?"
Tenchi nodded. "Most years," he said, "though usually my
father has been the one who comes here. I like doing it, though."
`So do I,' Ryoko thought with a happy sigh, `and with you
alone makes it so special to me. I hope you understand that, dearest
Tenchi.'
* * *
Atop one of the four monuments, the crow continued to beat
its wings with force in the stinging snow. Now rising its voice in an
awful caw, the crow continued a powerful call across from this world
into the next. Even over the screaming winds that were racing across
the mountainside and out of the darkness, a muffled sound could be
heard coming from deep within the ground below. The eyes of the
crow gleamed in satisfaction as it began to strike the stone with the
tip
of its beak like a hammer.
Lightning flashed across the sky, momentarily illuminating
the driven snow and clouds.
* * *
A white lance of pain struck into Ryoko's left side, piercing
her kidney hotly and stabbing upwards. Her cry cut off by the
powerful hand that grasped her throat, the choker that separated
Ryoko from her powers dug into her windpipe. Her eyes widening in
rage and horror, she saw Tenchi dropped by a man who had been
holding him. As Tenchi collapsed to the ground, a third man, with a
shining weapon, smiled nastily.
The blade in Ryoko's side continued its path, splashing her
blood on the inside of her coat and clothes hotly against her cold skin.
Suddenly, she lost the strength in her knees, and she buckled. Ryoko's
captor released her as she fell to the ground in a back alley.
* * *
Now louder than the storm, the noises coming from the
ground had risen to shuddering levels. The sound of wood and metal
grinding and groaning against each other sang out in a horrific
symphony, like the sides of a ship buckling as it sank. Out in front of
the monument, the surface of the earth began to rise and roll.
And the crow called.
* * *
It was very quiet... almost muffled. Though the sun shone
brightly, the air was still very cold, but Ryoko could not feel the
temperature any longer. Everything was becoming weaker to her by
the moment, and the savage pain in her side was slowly subsiding as
well. Face down in the alleyway, the pirate struggled to turn her head
to the side. Succeeding after several moments of futile attempts,
Ryoko's vision cleared and focused on a body not several feet from her
own.
Lying on his back, facing the blue sky, Tenchi stared wide
eyed and labored for every breath. A neat wound marked his chest just
left of center and near his heart. Blood trickled at the corner of his
mouth. Ryoko cried out silently, trying desperately to bring her hand
up to her neck to remove the choker. If she could just get it off,
maybe
she would have the power to.
Tenchi shuddered twice, gasping for breath, before letting out
a deep sigh. His body relaxing softly, Tenchi's eyes lost their wide
stare and closed slightly as the light left him forever. Ryoko
ratcheted
her mouth open in a scream that came out only as a gurgled cry.
Weakening further, she was unable to bring her hand any closer to the
damned choker around her neck. Losing all the feeling she had left,
Ryoko wept into the dirt and grime of the alley as her light also
disappeared from this world.
* * *
There was a violent concussion, and dead grass and soil
erupted in a shuddering groan as a heavy wood and steel coffin was
thrust into the freezing night. Throwing its head back in triumph, the
crow screamed into the fury of the storm, lifting its wings in tribute
and welcome.
Spilling more earth to one side, the lid of the box was forced
open, almost ripped away from its heavy hinges. Launching up from
within the coffin, a figure, dressed in a black ceremonial death
kimono, moaned loudly and thrashed in confusion, clawing at the
earth that threatened to collapse back into the now open box.
Continuing to thrash about wildly, the figure scraped out of the coffin
and onto the frozen ground before the grave stone. Rocking back on
its knees, the figure dropped its shoulders and howled into the raging
night.
And the crow raised its voice alongside in a frightening
chorus.
* * *
Few things could have roused the man from his sleep and out
into the teeth of a winter storm. After the tragedy life had handed him
in the past year, few things indeed. But a terrible scream, a scream of
all the emptiness and terror of the world raised in one apocalyptic
voice, instantly brought him up from the depths of a slumber that had
long since ceased to bring any rest.
A gaunt and thin Yosho slammed the sliding door of the
Masaki temple open, despite the howling winds. In an appearance
shocking to anyone that would have known him a year earlier, the
prince of Jurai stared out into the stormy night with hard eyes.
Dressed in clothes now threadbare, Yosho appeared to have aged at
least ten years, and not well, either.
Stepping down the steps somewhat shakily, Yosho then raced
as fast as he could against the wind. Passing through the temple
courtyard, ill kept and littered with limbs and other mountain trash, he
headed up towards the ridge from where he heard the scream... a
place where no voice should be at any time.
Almost blown off his feet several times, the aged prince of
Jurai crested the ridge and froze in his tracks. Wind whipping the
long gray and white hair behind him, Yosho stared in horror, his usual
calm demeanor failing him.
Before him, it's lid tossed away and the earth around it thrust
asunder, was a coffin.
An empty coffin.
* * *
In a disturbance that rivaled the roar of the snowy gale
swirling above, the figure smashed through the darkness that
enveloped the countryside. All around, limbs of trees grabbed and
underbrush tore at the racing shadow, but never once came close to
slowing it down. A deep and keening wail reverberated against the
valley walls, every note laced with fear, horror, and pain.
High above, the crow kept pace with the sprinting apparition,
every note of anguish lifting the bird higher in ecstasy.
Smashing from the mountain brush in a flurry of snow, the
moaning soul sailed out over a clear spot that marked where a road cut
across the slope. A swirl of cloth, ragged and torn black robes
whipping behind, the figure touched down on the ice and snow-
covered pavement and immediately slipped. Skidding at an incredible
rate of speed, the phantom slid straight towards a sharp curve that
overlooked a shear drop off of more than one hundred feet. Crashing
through the flimsy wood posts that served as a guardrail, the figure
sailed out into the darkness, robes flapping and fluttering on
outstretched arms. For a brief moment, the ghostly figure flew on
wings of black.
And the crow laughed in rapture at the wondrously horrific
spectacle.
A piercing scream slicing the night storm, gravity reasserted
itself and the robed figure plummeted, crashing through the tops of the
bare trees into the darkness below. As the large bird soared the
buffeting winds, it heard the snaps as branches tore and broke under
the falling weight, ending in a muffled impact far below. With barely
a pause, there were more screams and crashes in the distance from
down the mountainside as the supernatural being continued to run.
`That's right,' delighted the crow, `keep running, girl! Keep
running, because the pain is right behind you! Keep running until you
realize you'll never escape it!'
It was timeless. As long as there had been intelligence in
creatures, there had been brutality and murder. As long as there had
been brutality and murder, there had been vengeance. And as long as
there had been a need for vengeance, the crow had existed in many
forms and on many worlds. The surge and ecstasy of pain from the
tortured and grieving victims that the spirit felt.
Never did it cease to thrill.
* * *
Lights flashed, perched on the tops of Japanese police cars.
Formed in a loose barricade, numerous traffic cops kept spectators at
bay. A few flakes of snow were spitting out of a gray sky, tears frozen
in soft sadness.
In an alleyway, a pair of heavy blankets covered to shapes. It
was not difficult to anyone standing beyond the police lines to realize
two bodies lay underneath. Walking out of the alley, a female traffic
officer was stony faced, wishing she were still in Tokyo. She came up
short in front of her partner, who was leaning up against a small patrol
car.
"Hey," she said. "Miyuki, you okay?"
The officer named Miyuki nodded sharply and took in a
shuddering breath.
"I'm all right, Natsumi," she replied. "I... I just didn't expect
to see something... like this."
Natsumi reached out and gave her partner's hand a
comforting squeeze. Wishing she had a cup of hot tea, or even that
mud-water people called coffee.
"I never would have thought we'd see something like this out
here in the country," was all Natsumi could say. "So much for this two
week 'officer exchange' training being a cake-walk."
Miyuki just shivered, wishing she were back home in her own
precinct. Back in place where nothing bad really ever seemed to
happen.
A single tear crested and streaked down Miyuki's cheek.
"They weren't much younger than us, Natsumi," she whispered.
A wailing in the distance could be heard as ambulances raced
fruitlessly to the scene.
* * *
The storm had abated somewhat when the figure in black
robes crashed and stumbled through the gates of the local fairgrounds.
It was a country fairground, perched up on a hill where carnival
during the summer played well into the night. Now, it was deserted
for the season.
Staggering across the untouched blanket of snow that covered
the empty grounds, the figure shook violently, hands trembling with
thin fingers outstretched. Above, the crow came to rest on the eave of
a small roof. Cawing loudly, the bird scratched its claws on the
wooden roof, beating its wings. The ghost below, trembling, looked
up at the bird through soaked and matted strands of hair.
'That's right, girl,' the crow spoke into the figure's
traumatized mind. 'There's no running from it, and there's no
stopping it. You're going to have to face the truth.'
The woman's mouth slowly hung open, slack and draped in
shadow. Rising her hands to her the sides of her head, the beginnings
of a new round of screaming was about to start.
Laughing, the crow danced with glee.
'Face it, girl!'
There was a savage and jagged edge of pain and memories
that flashed in the mind of the woman. Howling like an animal, she
staggered backwards in the snow, spine arching to the point where it
could have snapped. Images of blood, knives, and men surrounding her
and the one she loved more than anything in the world. She kept
backing up, but they would not stop, they would not cease the endless
repetition in her mind's eye.
Picking up speed from her shuffling, the woman met a plate
glass window. Razor shards flew in all directions as she crashed
through it, sprawling to a hardwood floor. Snowflakes swirled into the
small building, light from a lone street lamp streaming in. Tangled in
a pile of costumes, robes, and hangers, she collapsed in a storeroom to
the fairground's little theater.
'You know you can't run,' the crow mocked from the shattered
windowsill. 'Can't hide from it either. What's left then?'
Weeping terribly, the woman moaned from where she lay on
the floor.
A gleam from the crow's eyes pierced the snowy gloom.
'There's vengeance, girl! Anger, revenge!'
And then something was different. Pain began to turn into
heated rage, slow but steadily burning within the broken features of
the phantom. Choking sobs gave way to a throaty growl, like a
ravaged animal that was beyond the point of taking any more abuse.
Fighting her way to her feet, the woman smashed through the rest of
the theater storeroom, up-turning crates and boxes, looking for
something.
'There, girl,' whispered the crow again in her mind. 'There
on the tables...'
For the crow had an image in it's mind of how its instrument
of death and justice should appear.
The snarling woman, reached for a bottle on a nearby table,
knocking away aerosol cans, brushes, and other items in the process.
There was an inky black fluid in the bottle she grasped tightly,
strangling the plastic with both her hands. Ripping the top of the
bottle off, she dumped the contents on her head and slung the plastic
away. Raking her hands through her long hair, the black dye was
streaked over and over until the original color was no longer present.
Finished with that, the woman grabbed small pots of kabuki face
paints, tearing the pots open looking for the right colors.
Finding what she was looking for, the figure began
ferociously smearing white and then black paint on her horrid face.
* * *
An hour later in the once again quiet fairgrounds, a lone
figure stood out amongst the snow, very still. Unnaturally black hair
spilled down from its head in long spikes, falling over a combination
of black kabuki robes and skintight leather. Lifting its face to the
one
lamplight in the entire area, it was a woman with skin made unearthly
pale and white from the theater paint. Around the eyes, jet black
ringed with streaks above and below each one. Lips were also black,
twisted in a terrible frown.
The crow swooped out of the darkness and landed on the
woman's shoulder. It beat its wings several times, trying to get
settled
as the she began to walk into the night.
'You know who they are, don't you, girl?' the crow asked with
a fearsome expectation.
She stopped for a moment, her face still shadowed mostly in
dark. Looking up slowly at the massive bird perched on her shoulder,
the woman nodded once before starting to walk again.
"Juraian robes," the figure named Ryoko said in a voice dead
of emotion.
"They were wearing Juraian robes."
Together, the crow and the space pirate who had been dead
for a year walking out into the dark night. The still falling snow
quickly filled in their tracks.
Many people were going to die.
They just did not realize it, yet.
* * *
Chapter 2: a confrontation with Yosho and a mentally unbalanced
Washu. The crow saves a life before it self-extinguishes, but brutally
takes another.
Comments and Criticisms appreciated.
Michael McAvoy
mmcavoy@ejourney.com
memebers.xoom.com/mmcavoy/
July 16, 2000