The Nikholas F. Toledo Zu
presents
The Three-Fold God's Path
a DragonBall Z fanfic
by
Nikholas 'Don Juan' F. Toledo
(Overseas Correspondent)
episode 11: Kunoichi
"A. Sterling. The code is," her voice dropped to a whisper,
"'seeking paradise in a dream.'"
A pair of huge, outer doors constructed of a strange black alloy
that reflected no light soundlessly slid open. The two cybernetic
mercenaries inside waved her and her brawny companion on through the
corridor. She leaned close to a retinal scanner in a panel on one of the
walls as she spoke the command to make the silvery inner doors at the end
of the corridor rotate out. "The sleeper must awaken."
Yamcha pulled a chair, and sat down just to one side of the inner
doors, a resigned expression on his face.
"I hate all these dumb secret codes," she murmured to herself as
she drew her own chair close to the side of the bed not blocked by the
large, whirring machinery and monitoring equipment necessary.
"So, still sleeping? That wouldn't be a good example for your
students... I've heard only bad things about your replacement," she
tried hard to smile, to sound cheerful, to forget the feeling of
helplessness that was about. "Supposedly, his tests are ridiculously
hard, and his teaching's atrocious."
The strong smell of hospital antiseptics wafted through the air.
She rubbed her left eye. "And you know, your notes on the site of
the Scroll were really helpful for convincing a few of my colleagues...
but where did you keep the Scroll? When are you going to teach me all
that you know and hide about the Scroll..." She reached out as
delicately as she could, and laid a finger on the heavy bandages. "They
say that your body rejects and destroys the skin grafts so quickly that
it's pointless to try... Why do you always make things so difficult for
everyone, you jerk?" She smiled wanly.
Andrea let herself go just long enough to let out a sad, tremulous
sigh.
She hefted her gray shoulder bag and started to dig through its
contents. "Well, the last time, we had my theories about the culture
that developed the Scroll... Mostly guesses from inadequate fragments of
data... But then, that's my life's goal, isn't it? To uncover the truth
and knowledge from whatever there is that's left? Hmm... Then again,
you might be getting tired of that. Feel like some Dostoevski today?
Oh, I've got it... Let's continue with Les Miserables. We'd gotten
to... hmm... Fantine-Book 6?" She pulled out a worn out reprint that
had seen better years.
She enunciated the words carefully, imagining herself in his place
as she spoke, "...He added between his teeth, 'Yes, a spy, from the
moment I abused the power of my position, I've been no better than a
spy!'"
She continued, hardly noticing the time passing by as she read
Hugo's deathless story, to the man who'd obsessed her ever since they'd
met. She couldn't see beneath the heavy gauze, but from the hollow where
his right eye once was, came a single, quiet tear, absorbed by the
bandages instantly. The electro-encephalogram showed the barest
fluctuation from normal, for a moment that passed too quickly for any to
notice.
She was soaked, and she felt a little chilled, but she didn't care.
She shook her head, dislodging a few droplets of water from her blue
hair. She'd forgotten how beautiful the city looked in the early evening
when it rained sometimes. The lights would reflect in endless,
hypnotizing variations against the puddles of water, rippling from the
wind and from the continuing fall of heaven's tears. A mist draped
itself about the curving streets and hills surrounding the university,
and made the mundane lights of the distant skyscrapers seem like phantom
stars on the horizon. People walking in the streets, bundled in their
heavier clothes, seemed like fading giants traversing a mystical
landscape. It reminded her of the few years she'd spent living in
Paris... oh, how she missed it.
Sometimes, when it rained like this, when the mist and the lights
and the time of day were just so, she could imagine that the distant
Standard's Tower was the Eiffel instead... and for just the shortest
instance of time, she was transported back to that magical place.
Ami sniffed.
Trunks could fly pretty fast... she wondered if he could bring her
there, sometime, some weekend?
Trunks... where are you?
She decided to cut across the campus. It looked much nicer in this
weather, she remembered.
She didn't notice how intently she was being followed.
Her path through the campus took her through one of the less
traveled routes... a path that, at this time of day, was completely
empty. It wound side by side Strawberry Creek, and most of it was shaded
by the swath of old pine trees that cut a dark green slash through the
black, gray and brick-red buildings of Moorcock University. She came
here often when she needed some peace from the city... to think, to
ponder... To be away from everyone, and alone with her thoughts.
Sometimes, she would sit on the bank, and write a poem or two, or
sometimes sketch... And in her absolute, most private moments, when she
needed it the most, she'd bring along a battered little case, and lose
herself in the music of her violin.
She didn't have it with her now... She wished she did. Still, the
stream was higher than normal due to the rain, and its gurgling, bubbling
movement had a music all its own. She stopped, a shadow in the mist, and
listened.
That was when she realized that she'd been followed. Fear gripped
her heart. No, it couldn't be... It was... The dark ones... They of
the evil hearts and the unstoppable convictions... And the powder-white
faces. Her heart hammered painfully in her chest. How could it be?
They were supposed to have been stomped out, their dark cult burned out
of the land forever...
She screamed... and they closed in, mercilessly, the Men in Black.
They mimicked her, arms crossed before them, eyes wide, jaws slack
with terror.
A ray of light glinted off, high in the trees above, catching the
eyes of all. Ami turned to the shining hope, causing her attackers to
stare at it as well, perfectly imitating her posture, facial expression,
even the way her left pinkie finger was twitching.
Alas, it was not who she had in mind. But under the circumstances,
he would do.
Mari groaned in tired satisfaction as ever so slowly, she lowered
herself down onto her bed, uncurling and relaxing the tension in her
lower back and shoulders. She covered herself with her blankets, and
mumbled, "Hmmm... I could sleep for days..."
The keen edge of a sword whistled through the air, down and across
through the middle of the bed.
A narrow line of red traced the curve of Mari's back. She'd
twisted beneath the sheets at the last instant, preventing the black
blade from cutting her in half. She gasped, rolling off and using her
right hand on the headboard to launch herself, flipping back across the
room before the bed had time to collapse.
She landed on her desk, crouching, wrists locked, forearms crossed
low in front of her waist. "Who are you..." she panted.
The black figure threw its left arm wide to the left, a spray of
dark slivers of razor-sharp ceramic spikes flickering towards Mari.
She sprang up, turned in mid-air and kicked out against a rafter on
the ceiling, catapulting herself several feet away and dodging most of
the projectiles... She hissed as she grasped the end of the weapon
imbedded in her shoulder and drew it out. They've found me... Her eyes
narrowed.
Her opponent leaped, a gray streak flashing in the darkness.
In the split second before the assassin could land the blow on her,
Mari tore a handful of pencils from the container on the stand next to
her easel and tossed them at him with her right hand. He shifted his
point of aim, deflecting all of them in a flurry of strokes except for
one that missed wide, puncturing deep into the apartment wall. She back-
flipped, jumping for the doorway...
She clenched her teeth, almost screamed with the pain. She was
pinned to the wall, the sword jammed completely through her side. The
man twisted the blade slightly, and a red stain traveled quickly down
what was left of her light blue pajamas. Mari bit back the howl, blinked
away tears. She tried not to breathe hard, tried not to widen the injury
even as she spoke, "Why... now? After all... this time."
The other's eyes locked with hers, a feral orange revealed by the
lightning outside. "No one escapes us... You of all, should remember
that." His voice was tight, angry. He threw a light back-fist, causing
her head to bounce off the wall, making her cry out from the movement, as
the wound ripped wider.
A trickle of blood started at the corner of her mouth, and she
shook with the incredible, lancing agony. "Just..." she gasped wetly,
"... just wanted... to be... free." She screamed again as his fists
sank into her mid-section. She felt light-headed, and struggled to stay
conscious... "Haru... w-we were..." she whispered, "friends... once."
"Sure we were... but you left." He struck her with a rock-hard
palm. "I was always second-best to you, but I wasn't envious," his low
voice became slow, rueful, "you were my idol. I owed you so much... You
showed me how to become good at something I could be proud of, at a time
when I was just a sickly little nerd with a penchant for knives. You...
betrayed me when you betrayed the clan. Denied everything I'd learned of
value... Mari..."
"...Aren't you... going to get into trouble... for spending the
time t-to... talk to me?"
"We have all of tonight, my dear mistress of shadows. I was told
to make your death leisurely, and until I pull the sword free, your
bleeding will be quite slow. It may even stop, the edge was coated with
coagulants to ensure that you couldn't die too swiftly. Remove the
blade, and you lose blood very, very quickly in a rather gory death." He
was just as cruel as she remembered. "We went through a lot of trouble
for you."
Mari tried to smile, "And I suppose... I s-should... thank you?
How flattering... to be accorded... such an honor. Please... take
your mask... off."
Weakly, she reached for his face with shaking hands. He allowed
her to push the wooden red and black demon's face to one side, placing a
steady hand on hers to help her. She gently touched a scar that wasn't
there when she'd last seen him, running from his left temple along the
line of his cheek, down to his chin. The skin around it was still
reddish, slightly swollen
"...Got careless recently? Taught... taught you better... than
that." She wanted to laugh, but knew how much worse the pain would be if
she did. She sought the comfort of his big hands, warm, rough and
callused. Her thumb circled around the middle of his palm, feeling the
patterns of the lines and scars, and their history.
He squeezed her left hand lightly, and brushed his lips against her
knuckles. "An accident during practice. The young master's very good.
You'd be proud of his progress, Mari." He said her name tenderly, as
though caressing her.
"H-haru... I'm cold."
He shook his head, and walked over to the remains of her bed. He
brought over some blankets, and draped them carefully around her
shoulders.
"A... A-are... you always... this accom... accomoda... ting...
to your... targets?" She forced the words out.
"You're a special case, Mari... You were always special. To
me..."
She fought to keep her head up as her voice slurred. "G-glad...
that it w-was... you... they s-sent."
He touched his lips softly to hers, and whispered through the kiss,
throat constricted, "You should have stayed, Mari. I... maybe even...
loved you... once."
The contact was hot and damp, and not unpleasant, reminding her of
times long gone.
Her whispers were steadily getting weaker. "M-me... too...
Funny... pain's not so... bad... anymore. You g-getting... s-soft
on... me?"
"I could never have even touched you a few years ago. You should
have kept up your training," he scolded her. "Could you come even close
to repeating your high school senior project now?"
She looked at her knees, waves of shame reverberating through her
being. "I... I was n-never... proud of that... massacre."
He allowed a single tear to fall from his left eye before clamping
down on the emotions inside. "And what happened to your powers?"
"N-needed... to s-seal... off... my chi... t-to hide. H-
haru... 'f... you were e-ev... ever m-my... friend... kill m-me
quickly..."
He sighed, and the regret was clear in his eyes. "Yes. That's
what They thought you'd done. Mari... Something you should know, before
you die." He stood up from his crouch and brought out an elaborately
carved tanto from a sheath strapped to his right foreleg. "I don't know
why I was told to tell you... but my next target is your blue-haired
friend..."
Her eyes snapped wide. "N-no... not Ami... She knows n-
nothing... about me..."
"Sorry, Mari. I'm disobeying orders badly enough just killing you
now..." He pulled back the tanto in his right, and carefully thought
about the proper strike that would finish her with the least pain. The
blade flew forward...
She could see the point of it coming for her, and something inside
her broke. "Not AMI!!!" she screamed. The knife shattered in his hands,
and he stepped back, awed by the sudden surge of chi he felt. Lightning
seemed to dance on her skin as she closed her hands around the sword
pinning her to the wall, and broke it as though the tempered steel was
brittle clay. A terrible wind filled the apartment, smashing the
furniture, blasting out through the windows.
He just barely kept his footing through the chaos.
She fell forward and off the part of the blade still jammed into
the wall, and convulsed as the cobalt glow around her intensified. It
was as though a dam inside her had just broken, and released nothing but
fire... "AaaaAAAA!!! H-huuurtss!!!" She'd forgotten how badly using
the power felt. She'd trained herself to endure long, long before, since
she discovered that she possessed it... but the techniques did not come
back easily. She twisted on the ground, arching her back as she flailed
about wildly with limbs that didn't seem to be under her control anymore.
"MARI!" He'd never witnessed her full power before, and the agony
on her face was incredible. He reached forward, unthinkingly wanting to
help... and was caught by a stray blow. He landed awkwardly against the
far wall. Her hands dug into the flooring, and the concrete beneath the
carpeting crumbled in her hands so very easily.
It was an eternity before she could control her nerves enough to
dim the burning sensations racing through her form. The storm inside
died down, until the only wind was from the weather outside.
"H... Haru..." She stood slowly, trembling from the effort of
controlling her spirit energy. The floor shook beneath her feet. She
had to become accustomed to walking again with the suddenly incredible
strength flooding her muscles. With growing dread, she approached his
crumpled form. She didn't have to check to see that his neck was broken.
A voice whispered in her head, "Ah, excellent..." She froze. "Now
that you've your abilities back, my dear, you can return to work for us.
That is, if you don't want your friends to die..."
Mari snarled, "Why Haru? You could have sent anyone with enough
power to forcibly unseal my strength... why HIM? You knew... You KNEW
that the one who broke through to my chi would die!!"
"Your punishment for trying to escape in the first place. Besides,
he was one step from betraying us as you did." Tonelessly, the voice
droned on, "We'll send you the details of your assignment tomorrow...
Sleep well, shadowmistress. It is good that your Talents, and your
unique method of death, are ours again." It faded, and the sound of the
rain outside grew harder. She fell to her knees, and crawled forward.
"Haru..." she cradled his form in her arms, and sobbed. The
despair crushed her to the floor, though her injuries were completely
healed.
"So you're The Great Saiyaman III, huh?"
Goten blinked. "You seem a little less than impressed... Yeah, I
guess so. It wasn't my idea, you know." It was becoming harder and
harder for him to keep his eyelids from drooping. He yawned.
"And you're going to protect me and Ms. Sterling?"
She was starting to look downright doubtful, thought Goten.
"Err... Yes. Look, I know that I look like the typical messy college
male nerd, and I can barely keep my eyes open right now... but, uh, you
caught me at a bad time." Some water dripped off of a stray lock of hair
onto his nose. "What I mean to say is, nobody told me that I was
supposed to move to this boarding house until about half an hour ago...
For the past few days I've been working on my paper, see, and..." He
sighed, seeing her brow arching higher and higher as he continued.
"Look, could you please just show me to my room so that I can crash now?"
Her voice was icy. "This way. You've got the back room. I hope
you don't snore too loudly because the walls of this place are just a bit
thin."
He shivered. "Um... thanks." He took off his shoes, powered up
and down just enough to become moderately dry, and shifted his bags
around, settling the straps a little more on his shoulders before he
followed the petite girl in. Gingerly, he asked, "Where's Ms. Sterling?"
"Out visiting the mysterious Mr. Arien." Anju's voice softened a
little. "Sorry. I'm not normally this cranky... but something happened
tonight, and..."
"Oh, don't worry about them attacking this place. Bulma's assured
me that the security around here's excellent, and anyway, I'm a very
light sleeper. Trunks said that you were okay, and that nobody was hurt,
so it's all good, right?" Goten tried to sound cheerful as he put his
bags down in the little room she brought him to.
"...Yeah..." She shook her head a little to clear it. "How long
have you known Trunks?"
He halted his unpacking, turning inquisitive eyes upon her. "For
as long as I can remember. Why? Was he especially obnoxious today?
You'll get used to him, in time. He's really a nice enough person, you
know."
"I know," she murmured.
Something in the way that she said it struck him as odd. "It's not
about Facility strike on you tonight, is it? If I'm not prying... may I
ask what's wrong?" Goten tried to keep his voice in the tones he
remembered Gohan using with him many times before. "It sometimes helps
to talk about it." He cleared his throat. "Pretty clumsy-sounding, huh?
Really though, if you want to talk, I'll listen."
Her voice sharpened again, almost causing him to wince. "I... do
not know anything about you."
"Okay, okay... Sorry I asked." He had his hands up in what he
hoped was a placating gesture.
"Tell me," her eyes bore into his own. "How highly do you regard
human life? Value it?"
That completely threw him off. He sat down directly in front of
her, and peered up into her eyes. "I value it lots. What do you think I
was taught to fight for? To have a good time? What's all this about?
What happened tonight?" His expression hardened. "What did Trunks do?"
Something cold crept through his thoughts - a feeling that he did not
like. Almost a premonition...
She almost turned around to leave, hesitated. Even sitting down
cross-legged on the floor, there was this aura about him when he was
serious. He seemed even bigger than he actually was. All the sleepiness
was gone from his eyes.
She sat before him in a slightly formal kneeling position, resting
most of her weight on her ankles. Her back was very straight as she
asked him, "Please, tell me, have you ever been seized by the fighting
rage so much that... you've nearly lost control of your spirit force?
It's... important."
"Merciless mimes of HELL! Tremble and despair as you face my
wrath!!! No more shall you prey on the innocent pedestrians of this
grand institution of learning that is my university! You shall mock the
body language of others no more!!!"
For once, Ami was gladdened by Yuu's sudden appearance.
He was making short work of the black-clad, white-faced demons of
identity-displacement and mimicry. Actually, his fierce bellowing and
his quick attacks made it seem as though there were several of him
attacking them... Kicks here, punches there, and one of them thrown
against the others to scatter them like so many leaves. And that was the
main reason that, gibbering in panic as they snatched up their fallen
black hats and straightened out their dark uniforms, they fled into the
night from which they came. He wasn't fighting seriously, after all, he
didn't want to actually injure anyone - they were just normal people
trying to make a living, even if the method they chose was misguided and
just plain wrong.
Besides, he was a humanitarian, an enlightened and sensitive modern
man, he reassured himself.
After disposing of them, he laughed intimidatingly, hoping to
strike fear into their hearts so that they would never repeat their vile
crimes. And now to attend to the damsel in distress, he thought, smiling
his most dashing smile (and blinding no less than five squirrels in the
process, causing them to fall out of the branches in paralyzed awe).
Yuu faced Ami, who was still picking herself up from the shock of
being attacked, puffed out his chest further, and grinned as he spoke,
"Ah, exhilarating it is, fighting the minions of evil - yet no task makes
the blood race quite so well or pleasantly as the rescue; for I am Yuu,
esteemed knight of all that is good and proper, and a damsel in distress
as beauteous as thee, can make the most tedious duty as exciting and
enjoyable as any summer day in a paradise of heliconia, coconuts, and the
massaging of delicately warmed sunscreen lotion into the tingly
sensations about one's appropriately stiff and muscled neck... Hey,
where'd you go? I'm not done yet!"
He was about to chase after her form fading into the mist, but
heard a cry in the opposite direction.
"Ah, yet another damsel in distress! A hero's work is never done,
and that is the way it should be, as no other way allows one to so
demonstrate one's awesome prowess to the ladies! Now I must away, after
the knaves of the dark age in this urban inferno..." He leaped to the
treetops, continuing his running monologue on the duties of the hero, and
why all of this was really the government's fault, and why was traffic so
bad these days, and would taxes on holovid viewing be raised this year so
unjustly - perhaps he would have to run for some public office to help
rescue this decaying and decadent society - and on top of all these
important issues, would that proposed extension of the subway system
really push through, and if so, would it not affect the quality of living
in the suburbs and... well, you get the gist of his runaway train of
thought.
Ami as she ran further, "S-sorry, Yuu... But I came here to be
alone... not to listen to you rant... If only Trunks were here..."
"So she left?" He refrained from sighing. "I know, I know, but
something came up... Look, please, just tell her that I called, that I'm
sorry, and that I'll make it up to her... okay, thanks, Mina..."
Click.
He rested his chin on his palms as he spoke indistinctly into the
receiver "Ami... where are you? I'm sorry I didn't make it... but
there was this emergency, see, and..." What can I do? I'll just explain
it to her tomorrow... Maybe Anju can help me pick out some flowers for
her in the morning...
He tried not to think about what he almost did just a half-hour
ago. The nightmares wouldn't come true... He swore it to himself. The
rage would never control him - he controlled the Power, not the other way
around... He was grateful to Anju for keeping him from doing something
he would have regretted for the rest of his life. And for not telling
anyone about it... That blast was hideously overpowered... He didn't
realize how much so...
He buried his fingers painfully into his own arms as he clutched at
them. "Goten never has problems with losing control... Sometimes, I
maybe wish... that I wasn't quite so strong..."
I'm going to defeat this. I will master myself... I've got to.
I ran blindly into the night, when they came for the body... I
didn't want to know, didn't want to remember the way they would dispose
of the corpse.
Haru.
All my fault! I should never have approached you all those years
ago...
Feel light, as though a hollow shell is all that my form is, so
strong is my musculature with my chi unsealed...
For most, it takes a conscious effort of charging their bodies with
power to make themselves stronger. For me, it is natural, instinctive.
A mutation... something in my physiology, converts the spirit energy
directly into substances that super-charge me. I can lift a truck like
this, without even pushing myself, without the slightest strain on my
joints or sinews. But this unearthly strength has its price. At night,
the torture is overwhelming. My body's not tough enough for such
power... it always hurts afterwards, always worse if I pushed my
strength that day. And when I use the force of mind that is so strong in
me, the pain is doubled, tripled.
In the end, two years was all I had after I ran away, burning out
the chi in me so that they could never trace me that way. At first, the
weakness was terrifying... but it was worth it, oh the sweet release
from the pain. And the freedom of being my own person, of not having to
kill at the direction of others... The end to the nightmares.
Haru. You should have run too... You should never have accepted
me... your normal life denied you because of me.
It was all a game to me, then. Just a game.
Since I was four, my father drilled me in the secrets of our
assassin's family, though I didn't know it at the time. Wake before
dawn, targets around me in the darkness that I'd have to strike
unerringly with thrown weapons of every type. Leap from tree to tree,
hiding in the shadows of the branches, amongst the shadows of the leaves
as he'd hunt me, with bow and arrow, knife and sword. If caught, the
punishment wasn't so bad... only a stern word now and then. The
physical conditioning was incredible, and early on I became as lithe,
graceful and athletic as an Olympic gymnast. But I became even more. It
reached the point where I could snatch arrows aimed at me right out of
the air, I was so fast. Then later, when my chi, and my strength began
to grow faster than he thought possible at my age, he introduced me to
the deepest secrets of our clan.
The force of the mind. Enchantments and incantations to focus the
spirit. In older times, I suppose it could be called Black Magic. The
family had purified it and studied it such that it was no longer just
superstitious mumblings and gestures - it was a science, and an art, and
we were one of the few proud masters of these lost skills. I can only
describe them as special ways of manipulating the chi.
To disappear from the sight of others, to become shadow, to leave
behind the body and wander in spirit form, to probe the thoughts of
others, sift through them for their secrets without their knowing - to
make of the mind the ultimate weapon.
The pain was merely annoying then, but I wasn't nearly so strong as
I was to become.
He wasn't unkind to me, my father. He made me see my potential,
told me that I could become the greatest assassin ever in my family's
long history. My strength began to astound him, and my affinity for the
arts of the mind impressed him. No... now, I realize... I must have
frightened him that day when I broke through his psychic defenses almost
playfully, I was so proud. He'd challenged me to do it, thinking to
humble me, but he was the one humbled. Afterwards, he just said,
"Excellent, Mari. Most excellent."
But the next day, the servants told me I was to be sent to the
school. And my father hadn't even said good-bye. I was ten at the time,
I think. I cried and tore at my hair, but the servants merely looked at
me, and I could only feel foolish. I could do nothing - I was to be sent
away. I never knew the reasons.
The school was hidden high in the mountains, where, it doesn't
matter. It had no name that I can recall. Jokingly, I would sometimes
refer to it as 'Ninja High School' but that was inaccurate... we were so
much more than the legendary ninja of old. We learned how to use modern
weapons, firearms, computers. How to break in through passive and active
electronic security systems of every type. And then there were the
practice kills and the projects...
How did I find myself here, Goten, just outside the window of your
room? I don't know... I wish I could tell you... wish I knew what to
do... You're so idealistic... what would you think of me, were you to
find out what I am? Does the Great Saiyaman III's world have room for
killers like me?
I lean my head against the cold glass of the window, and watch your
shoulders stiffen as you talk to the young girl you are to protect.
Almost unconsciously, I cloak myself with all the skill at my disposal...
and of course, you don't notice me, even with all your chi mastery.
What would you think about Haru, if you could have met him?
Despite what the clan leaders think, we are human still, not tools
to be discarded after the kill, or the theft, or the set-up, is over.
You would have liked him, Goten. I'm sure. He was so much like...
you. My tears are lost in the rain that's still falling.
I should have let him kill me, I should have... I was resigned to
dying, I knew that it was coming for me, even when I was trying to escape
I knew that they'd find me eventually. Knowing how death was waiting for
me, I learned how to live during those two years, I learned what it was
that made life so precious, made you hold on to it and try to live every
moment of it... But time was too short...
Trunks reminded me of my father, strong and cold, and beautiful,
but Goten, my dearest... I press my lips against my hand, trying to
imagine what it would be like with you, remembering how it once was with
Haru. With you, I could forget, for a while... I thought, just maybe,
that I really had succeeded, escaped so far and so well that they'd never
find me.
Oh, Haru! I'm so sorry... They told you to tell me that you were
going to kill Ami... to force me to struggle for life, to struggle for
the chi that would save me... Because despite everything, I wanted to
live, I'm such a coward. Protecting Ami from the clan gave me the excuse
to live... and it is the tool they're going to use to keep me a slave...
Goten, it's cold, and I touch my cheeks with my fingertips, wishing
they were yours. Was it so terrible that I began to like you because you
reminded me so of Haru?
I should never have introduced him into the clan... The clan
taught you that death was beautiful, an inevitable freedom from the
chains of the body... That there was no guilt in the artistry of our
assassinations. It was soon after I got Haru mixed up in all this that
they sent me on my first real Hunt...
And even then, I didn't realize how terrible and ugly death really
is... Because I developed a secret of my own. To this day, no one else
really knows how it is that I kill without ever leaving a trace,
penetrating the most impervious security.
Killing with your shadow is supposed to be impossible, you see. In
astral form, you can affect nothing in the physical world, your movements
will not disturb the slightest molecule of air. The astral form is
usually limited to use in spying, and even then, it is always risky.
Because the astral form can be detected by the Sensitives... and the
ones who are trained how to can slay you easily, by cutting the fragile
tether linking you to your physical form.
I am a mutant in more ways than in just my abnormal condition of
physical strength. My shadow form is different from others, exactly how,
I am uncertain... But this I know, that my shadow form is so weak in
chi, so diffuse, that I am impossible to detect. This alone made me
special since I could spy on others without fear so long as my physical
body was in a safe place, but there was more...
My first assignment was not an assassination. It was to watch a
government official closely for the period of a month. He was
investigating events related to our affairs, and I was sent to discover
how much he knew. I did this between classes, and sometimes at night,
and always on the weekends... alternating with a few other selected
shadow-spies known for their subtlety.
He knew nothing, really. It should have been a boring assignment.
He had a few strands of rumors, that was all. It was practice for me.
But he was not the good man that he pretended to be on holovid.
There was one night that I was following him. He'd had his men
bring him a common prostitute from downtown, beautiful in cheap make-up
that was overdone, looking far, far too young - as young as I was then.
She looked so small in that tiny dress with its skirt that was too short
and a neckline that was too low, showing the barely beginning curves of
her breasts. My ghostly form looked into her eyes and if I'd had a body
to do it in at the time, I'd have shuddered. They looked haunted, young
and too old at the same time. I wanted to leave, I was afraid, but my
duty had been drilled into me strongly, and I couldn't leave without
cause.
Cajoled and charmed with money and rich jewels, she came into his
arms willingly. He - then, I don't quite know what happened - he tore
her clothes apart, and began beating her, his face was so red, and his
breath was ragged, and he was getting powerfully aroused by her
frightened cries.
He was hitting her and hitting her, and I kept seeing myself where
she was... and I don't know, there was this surging crimson in my
thoughts, and I shouldn't have been able to, but I began to feel chi
permeating my form. I tried to strike him, but still, my fists just
passed through, harmlessly. And maybe for an instant, he felt a slight
chill, but he was becoming so excited that he didn't notice.
I cried as he began to tighten his arms roughly around the little
girl, began forcing his ugly, bloated, naked form on her at the same
time.
Not quite knowing what I was doing, I plunged my ethereal fingers
into his neck, aiming for the carotid artery deep beneath the skin. It
should have had no effect, but I was desperate, and very, very angry, and
growing more so with each whimpering, broken animal sound coming from the
girl.
Somehow, my rage transformed the tiny amount of chi present in my
astral form into a physical barrier.
The autopsy revealed nothing - only that he died of a massive
stroke. The scandal was enormous, such a powerful official dying in a
room with a cheap ten credit whore who was battered and bruised.
At the time, I panicked. I was sure that I'd somehow been seen,
would be caught, something. I fled to my sleeping body, a hundred miles
away, and woke sobbing in fear. And then the pains struck me, worse than
ever before from the tremendous mental exertion. But I wasn't caught,
and no one ever realized it was me.
And that is the fashion I usually killed in, when assignments were
given to me. No evidence left behind other than the faintest trace of
chi, which dissipated within minutes of the killing. No security could
keep me out, no Sensitive detect me. My teachers did not quite
understand how I was accomplishing my assignments - initially, they
thought that the deaths of my targets from heart-attacks and strokes were
coincidental, but after the third one I'd eliminated, they believed.
I was held in very high regard within the clan, and at fourteen,
not even a high school graduate, I was the highest paid assassin in the
world. Of course, the payments went directly to the funds of the clan,
but I didn't care about money - the clan was everything to me, family and
world.
Back then, Haru was innocent and idealistic, but he had talent, and
to my shame, I recruited him from an outside high school... because I
was lonely, and I wanted a friend. He was initially horrified at the
prospect of the kill, but I soothed him, told him there were other things
he could do for the clan, such as becoming an industrial spy, a thief...
he didn't have to learn how to kill. But I was selfish, and at the time,
I was very satisfied with myself, very proud to be such a celebrated
assassin within the clan at so young an age.
There was only one target that I ever killed in person - that is,
with hand and knife, rather than from far, far away. Haru had
tentatively, almost shyly, asked me to take him with me on my next
assignment. I didn't want to show my 'special' method off to anyone, not
even to him... So I brought him with me, and decided to do it the normal
way for once.
This time, the target was an old photographer, who'd come across
some incriminating evidence regarding an illegal shipment for one of the
local Families. The foolish man was trying to blackmail them. They
hired my clan to kill him. And my clan selected me.
So off we went into the night, the Savage Garden that was the city.
You have to realize the excitement, the exhilaration there is
leaping from rooftop to rooftop, some of them far, far apart. It really
is like flying. Not the same of course, now that I've experienced real
flight in Goten's arms, but... But it's really something, and I think
that was when Haru started getting caught up in the mystique, in the
thrill of being a shadow warrior.
Strange how while he was becoming enthralled with the idea of the
kill, I was beginning to loathe it myself. And when I plunged the knife
into that sleeping man's back, again and again, I felt sick, and I would
have collapsed had Haru not steadied me...
He apologized, afterwards, thinking that his presence had made the
kill difficult for me. But there was a strange light in his eyes that
wasn't there before, and I knew that I'd lost him.
The next day, he changed programs, and began to learn the arts of
killing.
I began to hate it, everything. The way death touched my life,
filled it completely. I began to doubt myself, I began to feel that I
didn't belong. I was warned of course, by the teachers and mentors who
valued me... so I hid my growing despair deep down, where they couldn't
probe it out of me even in my sleep.
I made my decision, upon the eve of completing my journeyman
project - the deaths of the great Santini Family's most valued leaders
and officers... I couldn't do it anymore. Even in ghost form, I'd stare
into my victim's eyes, and could only see my own.
The last kill, was that of the eldest son of Old Man Santini... He
was a boy the same age as me, and knew nothing of his father's criminal
activities, so sheltered was his life... And the only thing that gave me
strength enough to finish it, to finish him, was the hatred I had for
him, for his beautiful, wondrously normal life that I envied.
I was sick afterwards, the pain was terrible, and I threw up until
there was nothing inside, and I vomited more after, even if I tried to
convince my body there was nothing left to throw up. I was dizzy, and
terribly, terribly afraid that I'd die, and that when I did, I'd see
those eyes... the eyes of every single one that I'd killed.
But I recovered. And I was given the highest award an assassin at
my level could receive - a hand-copied scroll of the ancient techniques
of the Founder himself.
My next assignment was overseas, and I seized the opportunity. I
burned the scroll, and in burning it, I felt that I was burning the
chains that bound me to my own clan. I wanted no more of the killing
ways.
As I watched it burn, I began a deep, meditative trance. And
burned away my chi, until there was nothing left. I was weak afterwards,
and fevered, but it was my only chance, and I had to take it, I had to.
Oh, Haru... I should have at least brought you with me, back
then...
Goten... I'm sorry... I've got to keep you away from me now...
Everything I touch dies, and... I don't want to involve you like I
involved Haru. I don't want to see that killer's light burning in your
own eyes...
I wish...
I wish I could get to know you better... and that I could go to
you for help.
But that is weakness. It would be best... for both of us... if I
just disappeared from your life completely. If the clan got a hold on
you... If they held you by threatening your friends whom you couldn't
protect all the time... an assassin like you would be unstoppable. With
you, they could rule the entire underworld, gain control over the
governments... and all in secret, so that you wouldn't even have to
fight your immensely strong brother... or Trunks, or his father.
Goten... Forgive me.
----End episode 11
Nikholas F. Toledo Zu @ http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Flats/3145/mezza9.html
Vector, Switch, Yebah, Don Juan, goo, Pervert, Scruples, Hollie, NomaD,
Blitz, Gee, Datzo, Jewel, Elf, Radler, Pinball, Mayhem
Fanfiction @ http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Flats/3145/fanfics.html
Warp Zone @ http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Flats/3145/thirteen.html
----------------------------------------------------------------
The logo of the Church of All Worlds is nine concentric circles.
Word from the Laity: Wipe yer feet! Bloody 'ell...
----------------------------------------------------------------