http://clampfix.fanworks.net/kenichi/essen01.txt </head><body><pre> It's been awhile, hasn't it? After a lengthy Summer vacation, I've finally returned to CML, and with a new fic, to boot! |) I'm not sure how good this one is... I hope people will be frank enough to point out any mistakes in here... "Be merciful to me, O God, for man would swallow me up; Fighting all day he oppresses me. My enemies would hound me all day, For there are many who fight against me, O Most High." Psalm 56:1-2 New King James Bible Chapter One Trees... The joyful colors of green rushed past my window as I gazed blankly at the summer scenery. The very speed of the Shinkansen Bullet Train I was riding made it look like a great oil painting, smeared and abstracted as it raced across the glass. I winced as the noonday sun bit into my eyes. Oneechan, you would have loved this view... I fought the pangs once again as I recalled how brutally she had died in my place. My teeth inadverdently clacked together in audible response to my thoughts. Focus on something else... I pulled out a smoke. A Philip Morris, no less. This was beginning to be a habit... Just as I fumbled for my lighter, a soft hand tapped my shoulder. I looked up from my seat to see a petite young lady in uniform. "Sir, I'm sorry, but this is the non-smoking section..." Stewardess. Or whatever you would call them on trains. My eyes swept from her to the all-too visible No Smoking sign a mere three feet ahead of me. Foolish. I let my feelings mess with my mind once again... "Gomennasai. I had forgotten..." The young girl smiled, almost vacously. "Please don't let that happen again. Enjoy your trip, sir." As she crossed the aisle, away from me, I couldn't help but think how much she seemed like those American dolls with the stupidly blank smiles on their vinyl faces. Smiling with nothing at all to be happy about. Let it go. Focus. Grandmother felt it best that I put my mind on things other than my revenge. She felt it best that I use the talents I was born with to help people rather than waste it on one man. Grandmother had my best interests at heart, but she just couldn't... She could never understand. This feeling like a beast gnawing at your soul. Okinawa would be waiting, just one more train ride and a short flight away. I was still fairly insecure about the whole affair; It wasn't just because the people I was to meet were Gaijin... It's just that I didn't like being in such close quarters with a so-called "Professor" of western occultism. The last thing I wanted to be right now was to be examined and probed like a lab animal. I shut my eyes for what I planned to be a short nap, recalling the man's name and how ridiculous the entire thing seemed. Professor J.T. McCarthy of the Miskatonic University. By the time I reached the end of the line, it had grown dark, too dark to continue on. For some reason, I was still tired, even after my nap on the train. It took only a quarter of an hour for me to acquire lodging at a small motel near the station. I felt like laughing when the manager insisted I call the place an Inn. It was hardly a five-star room, but it sufficed. I locked the door and slumped on the bed without even removing my coat. Oblivion took me almost immediately as I felt the soft yet firm impact of the cushion beneath... "Hey, give me back my hat!" It was all I could do to keep up with my elder sister's pace. Running like the children we were, years ago. Brother and sister, one and another. We shared the same face, though not the same persona. "You want your hat, little brother? Come and get it!" She playfully stuck her tongue out at me as she raced. I felt a smile brimming to my lips. How long has it been since I smiled like this? With a yell of pure joy, I launched myself faster. I slammed into something transparent, like a glass wall. First, surprise, then panic as I planted my hands all over the invisible yet smoothly solid structure that blocked my way. I fumbled for an opening, but found none. Oneechan was standing with her back turned to me, facing a tree. Why was she wearing my robes...? Oh, no. Not again... A hand, like a blade point, burst out of her back. Blood and flesh spattered on the invisible wall. Turning into cherry blossoms on the moment of impact. I tried to scream, beating on the invisible barrier till my fists bled, but no sound came out. I couldn't even whimper. Her body fell to the ground like a swan struck from its flight. Revealing the killer. Seishirou. Sakurazukamori. I was frozen as he strode toward me. Fear, anger, hate, love, all were weapons with which he tormented me. His right hand, caked with blood, reached for me. The barrier was no longer there. I was still frozen as he proceeded to paint my face with my sister's blood. Marking. Like the time my sister and I played with face paints when we were children... And yet his smile was so gentle, so caring, so... "Subaru-kun wa kawaii desu...!" The grin he shone was gentle. And I wore a mask of my own sister's blood... No... please...I... "SEISHIROU!!!" I felt something knock me off my feet. Something...? Struggling...? I pulled myself off the ground and let a gasp emanate from my mouth. A young man...maybe just a boy, was rolling on the ground, trying desperately to hit his face. Seishirou was obviously caught off-guard by his sudden attack. Young. Very young. As young as when I was at my sister's funeral. Maybe younger. Young... And full of rage. They broke contact as Seishirou rose to his feet. I was still frozen, by what reason I do not know. Seishirou's face, normally one of calmness, was twisted. Almost... angry...? "Your'e not supposed to be here!!!" The boy was like a dynamo, striking with every joint in his body, each blow landing on Seishirou's larger frame. I could see the tears in his eyes as he struck. His screaming and babbling made no sense as he attempted to batter Seishirou down using brute force; an ant trying to kill a lion. Good as the boy was, he was still no match. Seishirou grabbed him by his collar and threw him meters away. The little figure landed on his feet like a cat, but collapsed onto his knees a second after impact. The single good eye flashed at him, then turned to me. The dark figure smiled grimly. "I'm afraid our trip down memory lane has been canceled, Subaru-Kun." He disappeared in a shower of sakura petals. I felt my cheek. The blood still felt fresh. My attention went to the boy. He was on his knees, his face buried in his hands. Crying. I walked slowly, avoiding any movement to startle him. As I knelt next to him, I heard his words mutter grief and defeat. "Why...Why am I always too late to protect everyone...?" My eyes fluttered open to the sound of a radio. Curtains drawn closed around the room prevented me from seeing any outside light. I looked to the source of the noise, an alarm clock/radio that blatantly displayed 6:00 AM on its gaudy LED display as it chattered on. Apparently, the alarm was set to radio rather than tune by default. I brought my hands up to rub my eyes when I felt a warm wetness about them. Wet and sticky... The dream...? I rushed toward the small cubicle of a toilet in the room, slapping the light on as I did. A red blush of foolishness came to my face as I realized that it was not blood, but tears on my face. I allowed myself a small grin as I proceeded to wash my face in the basin. Dream. That's all it was. It can't hurt you. And yet... Five hours passed quickly in the seat of my train. Grandmother recommended I take a direct flight from Tokyo to Okinawa, which would have lasted a mere three hours. However, I felt like taking a more scenic route. Maybe Obachan was right; maybe I should just drop this entire thing. Yet vengeance screams within me. Like an unfed wolf howling to the moon, growing fiercer as its hunger goes unabated. My thoughts were cut short by the voice of the train steward announcing my stop. The medium-built, two-engined propeller plane stood before me, quietly awaiting my arrival. A small airline, not the kind of plane I had expected.It was to be empty excepting myself and the crew. It figures. Obachan's been pulling the strings once again. I let the stewards take my suitcase, small as it was, and entered the passenger hold. Normally, it could have seated twelve people. Today, however, it had me as the sole passenger. I seated near the window and watched as the road of airstrip slowly shrunk from my view. Like a sakura petal falling to the earth, dying. I gripped my sides in reflex. Damn, I couldn't deny it if I tried. Every time I turn, something reminds me... Of the good times between Hokuto, Seishirou and myself. Times that will never be felt again. Because of a friend's treachery and betrayal. I stifled my own giggles of mirth. Betrayal? Hah. He never betrayed me. He had planned this all from the beginning, befriending me, gaining mine and my sister's trust. Actually making me care for him... It was intricately planned, all along. I deserve this. If I only had more caution, more foresight... "Why...Why am I always too late to protect everyone...?" The words of the boy in my dream... What meaning do they hold? At first I wondered if the boy was me, but...impossible. He was different, he had gone through something much unlike what I went through. I wondered if I might meet him. And if it isn't a dream...? Clouds brushed softly at the window as I felt my thoughts fall into oblivion once more. I did not dream on my little nap, for that I was most thankful. I rose to the steward's gentle nudging as he told me we had landed. A couple of minutes later, I found myself standing outside the gates of the small airport. Not many people waiting around. I winced to the sound of a jet tearing the heavens above me. I looked up to see an American military plane race into the wilderness of blue. Yes, I remember. Okinawa was American soil, if not in politic, at least in physical presence. I had nothing against Gaijin personally, but they, as a general rule, seemed to think of themselves as masters of the world. It was too easy. It would have been too easy to just hate them. But my own people... Have we Japanese been any less imperious in the time of war? Deny it as we may, we were just as, maybe even more ruthless than the Americajin were now. I do not recall history teaching us about it, but I have an inkling of how we spent the last World War. Our war was not caused by desire or hatred. It was caused by our own stupidity. Maybe Seishirou... No. I will not think of him as such. He, that one, was not even human anymore. "Mister Sumeragi?" I turned to face a fairly tall Gaijin lady, attractive with her short blonde hair cut like a pageboy. "Hai. You are..." I felt my face blush reflexively as I spoke in fairly broken English. "Watashi wa McCarthy-San desu. Dozo Yoroshiku." I relaxed slightly when I heard her speak Nihongo. "I am glad you can understand Japanese, McCarthy-San." She smiled slightly. And her Nihongo was flawless. "My father was a serviceman here in Okinawa once. I feel it's my second home. I find that your'e not altogether surprised to see a woman as a Professor." "Let's say I was raised by some very strong women in my family." She called a small taxi and followed me in. We said nothing else on the trip, something that bothered me. Most Gaijin I had met were exceptionally talkative, but Professor McCarthy kept a stony silence as we headed for our destination. We disembarked at a small traditional house. The professor paid our fare, then led me into the house. I found it odd that such an obviously western lady would know Japanese custom well, as evidenced by her leaving her shoes at the door. Clearly, I had been quite mistaken in assigning the typical American traits to her. I followed suit. After she had prepared a cup of green tea at the table, I could not help letting my curiosity get the better of me. "McCarthy-San, I have noticed you have been fairly quiet lately..." The golden crown of hair bobbed slightly in the affirmative. "Yes. It's just that I would rather you rest before we take a look at the problem tomorrow." My curiosity was fully piqued by this time. "What problem...?" She faced me with a serious look on her mien. "From what I've heard, Sumeragi-San, the Sumeragi family are excellent exorcists and spiritualists...." "That would be a close enough western idea of an Onmyouji, yes. Why?" "How well versed are you in the western occult arts?" I slung my arms crossed. "I don't understand your question." "I felt that I might need your help." "Western magery is not my field, nor do I want to become one of my interests, professor. Onmyouji are 'exorcists and spiritualists', as you may say. We are not fantastic wizards and warlocks, if that is what you mean." "No, I mean something else altogether. I mean to ask if you have ever encountered anything from the western ideas of spellcasting or summoning..." I let my thoughts run through my head. "Once, twice, but nothing major. Some children playing with an Ouija board here, another couple caught up in..." "No, I mean something really major." "Not that I can recall." A small fragment, like an afterthought, came to my lips. "...What do you mean by 'Major'?" The professor bit her lip. "I was hoping that I wouldn't have had to bring this..." She took out a small, leatherbound book, worn with age. "It's frightening to even think about it." I gasped as she showed me the book's title. I have very little knowledge of western or middle eastern magery. Yet there are still some things that, despite the lack of knowledge, can ring a common thread of fear in people. The universal fear of demons for instance. This was one such book. Even the Romaji...English lettering seemed to evoke an aura of evil. "Y...You can't be serious..." "I'm afraid so, Sumeragi-San. This book is one of five original english-language copies of the original book, which is held under lock and key in the Miskatonic University archives. In fact, until the rest of my groupmates come back, I'm afraid I won't be getting much sleep." I put a hand to my face as I tried to take it all in. This can't be happening. It was outright ridiculous... And yet the fear was real. As real as the fear in my dream of Seishirou. "What...What are you saying...? That the problem you wish me to deal with is... this?" She nodded. "The Miskatonic research team are all scientists like me. Wer'e not magicians or exorcists or anything. We were hoping that you would help out. Your Obachan agreed to it readily..." "The trouble is...this book, if what Iv'e been hearing about it is true, it's a danger even holding it..." "Sumeragi-San, please?" Children playing with fire. That's what they were. Even if this wasn't the real book, any kind of magic, even that done for fun, could be dangerous. Like the loaded or unloaded gun. Simply too dangerous. And if the book was real...? "As long as none of you do anything stupid, alright." A relieved smile came the professor's face. "Domo Arigato Gozaimasu, Sumeragi-Sama. We will show you the situation tomorrow morning." The honorific she added to my name did little to calm my nerves. She stood up to get more tea for us both, and I found myself staring at the book's title as if it were the only thing in the world. The horrors it would unleash if it were real. I found myself hoping it all to be a hoax. And yet... A cold sweat came to my forehead. The hairs on my back stood as I read the title on its spine once again. The Necronomicon. </pre><p><a href="./">Back</a></p><p><a href=http://www.dreamhost.com/donate.cgi?id=216><img border=0 alt="Donate towards our web hosting bill!" src=https://secure.newdream.net/donate1.gif></a></p></body></html>