http://clampfix.fanworks.net/x-fix/storm1.txt </head><body><pre>Storm Front by Shanti Fader Part One Outside the shrine, a cold October wind was blowing. Needles of rain tapped against the glass window, pleading in vain to be let inside. Perhaps they, too, wanted to warm themselves, Sorata Arisugawa thought, glancing from the grey window to the fire before which he sat. The young Seal reached his hands toward the glow, shuddering a bit as the warmth stole over him. The shrine was a good enough place to hang out and wait for the end of the world, but there was a hole in one of the walls that he couldn't seem to track down, through which cold air leaked inside. It was very aggravating -- no matter how many rags or newspapers he stuffed into corners or cracks in the wooden walls, still that damn draft managed to evade him. "Oh well," Sorata mused aloud. "At least I've got a decent fireplace." He stretched out his hands again, watched the endless dance of flame behind and between his fingers. _Fire,_ he pondered. _Cruel, destructive, remorseless. And yet, bound and co ntained, it helps us live. More than that, it's *essential* for life._ He chuckled. Deep thoughts, indeed, for the Dragons of Heaven's resident goofball. Sorata knew that many of the other Dragons thought of him that way -- that crazy kid with his baseball caps and his wiseguy attitude and the hopeless crush on Arashi. A s far as he was concerned, that was just perfect. Better to be Sora-chan the goofball than a dark and brooding thundercloud of power -- and an obvious target for the Earth Dragons. This way he could be the hidden weapon, the ace up the sleeve. Unlike other Seals, who would remain nameless. " 'Though this be madness," Sorata intoned dramatically, " 'yet there is method in't.' Bwahahahaha!" The fire broke appreciatively into an equally dramatic shower of sparks. Sorata flung out his arms and bowed. Then he snapped upright. Was that someone knocking at his door? _It's almost eight. Who in their right minds would be out this late on a night like tonight?_ Sorata glanced over at the windows, thinking perhaps the wind had blown a shutter loose, but no. And there was the knock again. Cursing under his breath, th e young monk hurried to the door and threw it open. "I'm sorry to bother you, Sora-chan," said the man who stood dripping in the doorway, "but I got caught in the rain on the way home from work, and I didn't have an umbrella with me. Could I possibly...?" "Hey, no problem, Dad," Sorata assured him, relaxing visibly. "C'mon in and dry off." "I really appreciate this," Seiichirou Aoki said, hanging his streaming overcoat on a wall hook and moving gratefully toward the fire. As he sat, he removed a folder from beneath his jacket and carefully spread a sheaf of papers on the floor. "I had to stay late tonight -- deadlines, you know -- and if these layouts get ruined, I'll have to do it all over again." "So how come ya didn't have an umbrella, Dad?" Sorata inquired, sinking cross-legged to the floor beside Seiichirou. "Give 'em all away again?" Seiichirou laughed, his mild hazel eyes dancing in the firelight. "You kids are never going to let me forget that, are you? No, I just left it in the office." He grinned ruefully. "This rain wasn't supposed to happen until tomorrow." "Well, that's what you get for believing the weatherman. If you'll hold on a sec, I'll see if there's any orphaned umbrellas." Sorata sprang up and bounded out of the room. Minutes later he returned, a small black umbrella tucked under his arm. "Here ya go," he said, holding it out triumphantly. "People are always leaving 'em here when they come to the shrine. I guess they get so caught up in their prayer that they forget about mundane stuff. If they don't come back for it after a week, it' s ours." "Thanks again." Seiichirou finished drying his glasses, put them back on, and took the umbrella with a smile. "So, how have you been, Sora-chan? It's been a while." "Yeah, harder to keep in touch now that we've all split up again, ain't it? I've been okay. I had a run-in with Yuuto and his Jump-rope of Death the other day -- nothing I couldn't handle." "The Dragons of Earth have been quiet lately," the older man agreed. But something in his voice or expression made Sorata frown. "What's the matter, Dad?" he asked. "Something troubling you?" Seiichirou sighed. "Is it that obvious?" "Nah. I'm just brilliant." The Wind-master laughed. "Of course. No, it's nothing serious. I just miss my family is all. It's been so long since I've seen them." He sighed again. "In a way, it was easier back in the spring and summer, when we were being attacked at every turn; it kept me from thinking about them so often. But now.... There hasn't been an attack in months. And there's nothing to do but wait. I try to keep myself busy at work, but that only fills up so much time." _Aha!_ Sorata thought. _So that's why the late nights. Deadlines, my butt._ "Hey," he said aloud. "Cheer up! It's October already, so it won't be much longer now. We'll have the grand, climactic battle, and then everyone can go home. Or else," he added as an afterthought, "we'll all be dead. In which case, you'll still be with your family. Sorta." "Hey," he went on, as Seiichirou didn't show any signs of being happier, "at least you've got that nephew of yours, right?" "Daisuke-kun. Yes, that's true. But I'm afraid..." Seiichirou's voice dropped, "I'm afraid he's not much comfort. Isn't that dreadful of me? But Daisuke is so serious, so terribly focused all the time. He doesn't seem to see anything except the final battle that we're all heading for. "And I think he wishes he'd been the Seal, and not his stuffy old uncle." Sorata was quiet for a moment. His bright black gaze turned away from Seiichirou and focused on the dance of the flames beyond him. "I never knew my family," he said at last. "Grandpa Stargazer took me away from them when I was three, to study at the temple." Seiichirou turned to him with a stricken expression. "Sora-chan, I'm so sorry! Here I am, babbling on about my family, and--" "Now, hold it!" Sorata ordered, thrusting a finger under the older man's nose. "Let me finish, before you get all guilt-ridden on me. What I was _going_ to say was this: I never really had a family -- unless you count the other monks, which I sure do n't! -- until I met up with you and the rest of the Dragons of Heaven. You guys have been like a family to me, even though we aren't all living in the same place any more. So, maybe _you_ don't feel like you've got a family here, but...." He glanced away, suddenly embarassed by his emotional outburst. "...but the way I see it, you're part of mine." Seiichirou blinked. "I...that's very kind of you." He began gathering his layouts and stuffing them back into their folder. "I should be going now; I need to get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be another long day, I suspect. "Thank you for the umbrella," he called as he stepped back out into the rain. "I'll bring it back as soon as I can!" "No sweat -- keep it as long as you like!" Sorata shouted after him. "Ten to one, he gives it away before he gets home," the boy muttered, watching Seiichirou's tall figure fade into the night. It was true, he thought, what he'd told the Wind-master. About the Dragons of Heaven being his family. His trick of referring to Seiichirou as 'Dad' was only half in jest. Sorata had enjoyed it a lot more than anyone realized when the seven of them we re all staying together at the Imonoyama Mansion -- seven bright stars briefly drawn together into a perfect constellation. It was typical, of course, that it took the death of Kamui's girlfriend to bring them all together, but it was typical in a good way. None of the Dragons of Earth seemed to care much what happened to anybody, each of them lost in their own private little scheme; the Dragons of Heaven, on the other hand, were each fighting to keep the world safe for _somebody_ -- a family, a loved one, a friend. _We fight because we care,_ Sorata thought, settling himself in front of the fire once more. _That's what gives us our strenth._ But in a way, it could be a weakness. During their stay at the Imonoyama Mansion, they'd been hit harder and more often than any time before or since. Eventually, they'd realized that the benefits of staying together were drastically outweighed by the risks. And so, after shining together briefly, the seven stars had shot apart again, each seeking a safe corner in which to lie hidden. Since then, the attacks had slowed, and the Dragons of Heaven and Earth found themselves locked in a stalemate. It was necessary, Sorata supposed. Surviving until the final battle was kind of important. Still, it had been awfully nice having a family again. Getting up, he moved to the window and stared out into the rain after the vanished Wind-master. Aoki-san really _had_ been like a father -- not just to him, but to them all. Sometimes it seemed like he was the only real grownup among them. As he gazed out into the grey and dreary night, Sorata felt a thread of apprehension come to life and worm its way into his stomach. They'd been deadlocked for too long; something was going to happen. Something bad. Seating himself, he pulled a string of Buddhist prayer beads out of the pocket of his jeans, and began, with more fervor than he had ever brought to the process, to meditate. * * * * * (One Week Previously) Nearly hidden amidst a tangle of wires, the dark-haired woman reclined and watched as a flurry of glowing green letters scrolled across the computer screen. "Gah," she spat as a new message unfurled. "Not another one of _these!_ I don't know how I get through this dreck without insulin shots." <<Delete Message?>> Beast inquired. Satsuki shook her head. "No, go ahead and put it up." Disgusting as it was to sit here reading gushy email from people she didn't know and had no interest whatsoever in knowing, it was better than doing nothing. Which was pretty much the alternative, until she or somebody else dug up a clue on how to break the deadlock. And if that didn't happen soon, things were going to get ugly -- they might well start turning on each other for lack of more appropriate targets. So she spent long hours here, strapped into Beast, searching every scrap of information it could dig up that was even remotely related to the seven Dragons of Heaven. Most of it was utterly useless, not to mention boring, but Satsuki stuck with it on the offchance that one of these loads of gravel might turn up a diamond. She read the message currently up on the screen, stifling the urge to gag at its sugary sweetness. Once it was finished, she made a move to delete it, then stopped. "Wait a second," she said aloud. Scrolling up through the message, she read it again. A slow smile grew across her face. "Beast," she said, "send a message to the others. I think I've got what we've been looking for!" An outgoing message template appeared obediently on Beast's screen. Still smiling, Satsuki began to type: <<If you want to break a chain, <<look for the weakest link....>> * * * * * By the time Seiichirou reached his apartment, the rain had trickled off into nothing. He shook the borrowed umbrella dry and rolled it carefully shut, smiling as he recalled his conversation with Sorata earlier. A pity they'd all had to separate the way they had -- it had been kind of fun, in a way, playing father to all those kids. Still, he suspected it wouldn't be long before things started up again. Seiichirou sighed, and ran a hand through his light brown hair, still damp from its earlier soaking. Maybe Daisuki-kun was right, he thought, fumbling in his pocket for his keys an d opening the door. Maybe he _would_ have made a better Seal. His nephew was a Wind-master, too, and would bring all that passionate intensity to the battle -- an intensity Seiichirou knew painfully well he himself did not posess. He, Seiichirou, was t he dull Seal, the plain one, the grown-up. And if Daisuke could somehow "take over" his place, he could go home to his family, take them far away from Tokyo and its dangers. _We could go to America,_ he considered, starting up the stairs. He had heard that manga was growing in popularity over there. Maybe he could talk to Asuka's board of directors and convince them to open an overseas office, maybe in New York.... So lost in thought was he that it took him a moment to notice the light leaking under his apartment door. Seiichirou felt a chill run through his blood. His heart began to pound, and the floor gave a lurch beneath his feet. The hand holding his keys began to shake, but he managed not to drop the keys. "Who could be here?" he wondered aloud. Was it one of the Angels, someone who had tracked him down and was waiting inside to kill him? Or was it one of the other Seals, who needed his help with something? After standing in agonized indecision, he finally decided to go inside. After all, the Wind-master reasoned, if it were an enemy, he was not exactly helpless. And besides, it was _his_ home! Gripping the black umbrella like a weapon, Seiichirou turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door. "See, I told you I heard him coming," exclaimed the woman inside. "Yuka-chan, go say hello to your father!" "Daddy!" cried the little girl. She scrambled down from her mother's lap and darted over to Seiichirou and began ecstatically hugging his knees, which were the only part of him she could reach. Seiichirou could only stand there and blink. The keys fell clattering to the floor, followed a moment later by the papers which spilled out of his folder and floated down around his feet. "....Yuka-chan?" he said, his voice a dry, thin whisper. "Shimako-san?" "Yes, Daddy! It's me," the child crowed, delighted at being recognised. "And Mommy, too!" "Wh..." Seiichirou swallowed, hard. "What are you doing here?" "Didn't you get my email?" Shimako asked, rising from her chair. "I sent it over a week ago, asking if we could come into Tokyo for a visit." She smiled, the dimples in her smooth cheeks deepening. "When we didn't hear anything from you, we decided to come anyway, and surprise you." "I...never got that email," Seiichirou said, feeling more dazed by the moment. "I...there must be something wrong with my server. Sometimes messages get lost. But you shouldn't have come if I didn't answer, Shimako-san!" His wife tossed her chestnut hair. "Are you angry with us, oh fearsome editor?" she asked sweetly. "Yeah, are you angry?" the little girl echoed, never loosing her grip on his knees as she gazed anxiously up at him. Seiichirou looked down at his daughter. His heart swelled and melted with love for her, and in the next moment it contracted into a tight knot of dread. "No, sweetheart," he said. "I'm not angry with you. How could I be?" To Be Continued... [Author's note: I hope you enjoy this little fic. It's all N's fault, you see. Please feel free to contact me (shanti@haven.org) with questions, comments, flames, etc. Also, if anyone knows what Yuka-chan's full name is, I'd very much appreciate them telling me. -Shanti ] </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>