Subject: [FFML] [oneshot][CCD] The Language of Fans
From: Quicksilver
Date: 6/5/2002, 1:19 PM
To: cffml@yahoogroups.com, quicksilver@yahoogroups.com, fanficasylum@yahoogroups.com, dyingscarlet@yahoogroups.com, ffml@anifics.com


Hi!   Dangling my feet in the CLAMP fanfic pool�. I�ve
been lurking in CLAMP fandom seemingly forever, but I
finally couldn�t take it anymore!  Please let me know
what you think- should I go back and play in my usual
fandoms?   I don�t think I mangled Nokoru THAT badly�.
^^;;

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Aishuu Offers:
The Language of Fans
A CLAMP Oneshot
Disclaimer: Nokoru and company belong to CLAMP.   I�ll
return him (very reluctantly) after this is done. 
Spoilers for CCD, some of X.
Posting: Um... just let me know so I can see your site
*is insatiably curious*

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

	Unless you�re an Imonoyama, you can never understand
what the fan means.

	From birth, I remember being surrounded by them.  One
of my father�s friends, unsure what to get the ninth
child of the Imonoyama zaibatsu, commissioned a mobile
to hang over my crib, one made up of intricate paper
fans of various colors and sizes.   It was hung just
out of my reach, and I remember trying to catch them,
always without success.   It was a while before I
developed enough depth perception to realize that they
were placed beyond the grasp of a baby.

	I remember that.   I know most people don�t remember
being that young, but I am an Imonoyama.  We remember
things like that.   My older brother Owaru claims to
remember being in the womb, and we believe him.
Imonoyamas don�t lie, after all.

	We also don�t see very much of each other.  I am the
youngest of six siblings, and each one of us is more
brilliant than the last.   By the time I was five, I
was already picked to be the Rijichou�s successor.  
By the time I was seven, I was given the supervision
of the Electronics Division of the zaibatsu.   By the
time I was thirteen, I was entrusted with the secret
of the Shinken� 	

	Still, there is one thing the family does together,
and that is teach the language of the fan.   

	The Imonoyama fan language isn�t like any of the
traditional fan language I�ve been able to fine.  
It�s nowhere near as sinister, and is perhaps even
more subtle, which is saying something.   There are
literally thousands of movements that must be learned
before a conversation can begin, and only an Imonoyama
is to learn them all.  

	I was three when I was given my first fan.   It was a
simple paper one, yet the craftsmanship was superb.  
It should have been; my father had made it for me on
the day he learned was expected; another family
tradition.   We are all taught to make our own fans,
but the first fan comes from the hands of our fathers.
 This teaching fan, very similar to the ones used in
No training, was a sign that a child was truly part of
the Clan Imonoyama.

	My father was a serious man, and he was fifty when I
was born.   We did not spend much time together �I
would spend more with my aunt, the Rijichou- but for
those lessons, he himself taught me.

	I remember that day, the day he gave me my first fan
and began to instruct me.   He was a handsome man with
graying dark hair and blue eyes to match my own.   He
didn�t seem to care about his dove-gray suit, or the
bodyguards which watched his every movement �unlike
me, he was not lucky enough to be the One of a
Takamura.  I remember the seriousness in his face as
he drew me aside to his office, telling his secretary
to hold all his calls that  afternoon, for he had very
important business to attend to.

	�Nokoru-san,� he said, and I looked at him.   He
always called me that- not �chan�, not �kun�, not just
plain �Nokoru�, but �Nokoru-san.� It was the first
time I became aware of the distance between myself and
others, but I didn�t really focus on that.   At that
moment, I was glad to have his attention to myself. 
�How old are you now?�

	I gave him a sunny smile, and since I was at that
literally stage, I answer, �Three years, two months,
ten days, five hours, thirty-�

	�Yes, Nokoru,� my father said.   �When someone asked
you your age, it is customary to give just the nearest
year.   So you are three.�

	I nodded.   �Yes, otousan,� I said.   

	Father smiled at me at rumpled my hair with
affection.   �Since you are three, you are now old
enough for your first fan, the fan I made for you when
I knew you would be coming into the world.   Later I
will teach you how to make your own fan, but this one
shall be your learning fan.�  He seemed to magically
produce a small fan, and presented it to me.  
�Imonoyama Nokoru, I offer you this fan.   Remember to
carry it proudly, for it marks you as part of the
Imonoyama family.�

	 It seemed like ceremony to me, and ceremonies were
something I knew should be taken seriously.   I bowed
before holding out my hands to accept it.   �I thank
you, and I promise I will guard it will my life.   The
fan is the honor of an Imonoyama.�

	This seemed to please him.

	He produced his own fan, gray with blue tassels that
matched his eyes, and it seemed huge compared to the
small one he had given me.   Still, the small one fit
into my tiny perfectly, and I waved it around,
creating a small breeze.   My father indulged me as I
experimented, flipping it the way I had seen my
brothers and sister do, but he put a halt to it after
about five minutes.  �It�s time you learned the fan
language.   It�s how Imonoyamas communicate to each
other without words.�

	�Without words?� I asked curiously.

	He nodded, and grasped my chin in his left hand,
forcing me to meet his eyes.   I could have drowned in
their intensity, as he spoke more forcefully then he
ever had before or since.  �The first lesson, which
you must never forget, is to never drop your fan.�

	Never drop your fan� how often have I heard those
words repeated?  My father was the one who gave me my
first five lessons, and before the start of each one,
he would say that to me, which at the time I found
rather pointless.   He knew I had an eidetic memory,
so therefore he was wasting his time.  I hadn�t yet
grasped the concept of �repetitive learning�.   Just
because I had brains didn�t mean I knew how to use
them.

 	In time the rest of my family taught me the on the
language- how the positioning of a finger could affect
the entire phrase, and the trick to writing cute
messages to flash at convenient moments.   It was a
hard language, but I rejoiced in it, for it was a tie
between my family members and I.   

	All Imonoyamas have at least three fans on their
person at all times, if not more.   The first fan is
the use fan- this the one people usually see.   It�s
made of a special material that is remarkably durable,
and we all make our own by the time we are ten.   My
father announced that I had finally succeeded in
making myself an acceptable fan when I was seven-
remarkable when you consider my amazing lack of
coordination.   Suoh teases me that I am great on the
theoretical but lousy on the practical, and to a
certain extent he�s right.   I�m still more talented
than the average boy my age, but when I get compared
to the students at CLAMP campus, I look like positive
klutz.  Especially when you consider that my two best
friends are Suoh, a master ninja, and Akira, with the
not so secret identity of a master thief.  

	The use fan, though, can be written on with a special
ink that fades in minutes.   I can�t count the times
I�ve done that, then snapped my fan open, waving
another message.   I love how they wonder where I get
all the fans from- the truth is, it�s the same one,
over and over.   I hardly ever bring out a different
one, for the other two fans serve grim purposes.

	The second fan was added about two hundred years ago,
if my family history is correct.   They were samurai
then, and the head of the family at that time broke
tradition and had tessen-jutsu, the art of fighting
with a fan.   These fans are closely-guarded secrets,
and it�s rare that anyone can tell the difference
between a tessen and a normal folding fan.   These
sharp fans are primarily for defense, but make no
mistake- they are weapons and they can kill.  It�s a
practical fan, but I doubt I�ll ever use it.   I�d
probably slice my own leg off, even though my family
has seen that I�ve been instructed well in
tessen-jutsu.   Still, I carry it, just in case.  
Should there ever come a time when all odds are
against me, and I can be used against the Seals�

	�well seppuku is an honorable thing.   I know Suoh
wouldn�t like to hear me speak like that, or even
think of it, so that is a secret I keep from him.  I
keep it stowed in a carrier I wear on my back, much
like a shoulder holster for a gun.   I�m sure Suoh has
noticed it (he notices everything), but he keeps
quiet.   That�s the price of our friendship- not
everything can be out in the open.

	I have many secrets, but it is the third fan that my
family�s greatest secret.

        The Fan of the Black Tassels.

	Each Imonoyama carries a fan they make themselves,
and we each are encouraged to make it distinctive.   I
prefer to leave mine white, for I love scribbling all
over it, and I attach long red tassels.   Each fan
must have tassels.   My sister tried to persuade me to
go with a blue to match my eyes, but I preferred the
bright, cheery read.   Everyone was always shoving
blue at me because of my coloring, and I was heartily
sick of it.

	My brothers� fans were all as unique as they were.  
Owaru never seemed to carry the same fan twice, while
Amaru always has a fan made out of real silver.   One
of my aunts favored fans made out of multi-colored
cloth strips, while one of my cousins beaded his with
seashells� and the list goes on.   The fans the family
used were as unique as the members, and none of them
is the same.  

	Still, no Imonoyama uses a fan with black tassels
without reason.   This is the third fan we all carry. 
 This fan has a draping black tassel, and it is used
only when an Imonoyama wants to sent a message to
another.   Walk with care� trouble.   The fan language
may be secret, but many of our acquaintances know some
of  more obvious signals.  Sometimes the black tassel
is used to warn that an Imonoyama is lying; it�s a
very subtle thing.

	I�ve only ever seen the Fan of Black Tassels used
once.   I was thirteen� and that was when my aunt took
me to meet Hinoto, the Seer of Dreams.   I met Hinoto
then, to prove my worthiness as the next, and final,
guardian of the Shinken.   I didn�t notice when she
did it, but her usual fan vanished, to be replaced by
the third, and most dire, of the fans we all carry.

	The fan means so much to the family.   When a woman
marries into family, her husband presents her with a
fan, and instructs her our language, though it is
doubtful she will ever become as proficient as a
true-born Imonoyama.  When a woman marries out (as my
sister one day will), she presents the Clan Head the
first fan she was given, ripped in two- a sign that
she is no longer truly part of the family.   She is
forbidden to teach her children the fan language,
though she may carry her own fan until she dies.

	The fan means Imonoyama.  We are protective of our
own.

	Never drop your fan� 

	That, too, in Imonoyama.   How often have I heard it?
 It is the keyword we live by- the fan is our pride,
and without it�

	Everyone assumes that the playful snapping and waving
of fans that I do is merely an affection, but it�s
more than that.   It is a sign of my Clan�s honor, of
a family that I belong to someone.  I will never let
my fan drop�

	�until the Promised Day.   On that Day, I will carry
the Fan of Black Tassels openly, and if the World
ends, I will let it fall from my fingers in those last
moments, for there will be no Imonoyamas to carry on
our tradition. It would be appropriate, to drop the
fan then.

	For in the Imonoyama fan language, a dropped fan
means death. 




~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Time?   I�d guess� Nokoru would be about fifteen here.

Yes, there really is such a thing as tessen-jutsu.   I
know a practitioner, and we see Mulan do a little bit
in the movie that bears her name (though I think she
does the Chinese form, but the idea is the same).  And
let�s not forget about Tasuki of FY fame!  For
Information:

http://www.concentric.net/~Budokai/hibuki/tessen.htm


=====
"No matter what the bible says, the battle always goes to
the strong. And I am strong. I don't need to prove that to
anyone anymore."
-Excerpt from Sainan no Kekka- Act Seven, Scene VII

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Quicksilver/
http://www.midnightrevolution.org/gundam

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