Yes, I'm rewriting this thing AGAIN. It seems like 
every time I get the urge to put out another chapter
of this thing, I look over the old ones to get 
refreshed and think, "By God, what tripe! It could be
SO much better..."

Hopefully this is the last time I'll have to go back
and revise this thing, though. I didn't really do too 
many drastic changes to THIS chapter (added about 6k 
to it in one place or another) but the later chapters 
I'm gonna overhaul in a big way. Oh, and Larry, I'll
have the new versions for your website sitting in your

mailbox by Monday. Oh, that reminds me...

*shameless plug* 
Visit the Lost Library of Floristica! Nine out of ten 
Demon Gods recommend it! Read many good fanfics, a few

of them mine! Indulge your taste for the typed word! 
Follow this link! lwf58.tripod.com 
*end shameless plug*



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-- Attached file included as plaintext by Listar --
-- File: fy1.txt
-- Desc: fy1.txt

What is the border between fantasy and reality?

Are what we consider bedtime stories simply windows into another 
dimension?

Are authors inadvertent gods, creating and destroying without ever 
coming to know that what they write of is real? That where they write 
of exists? That who they write of breathe even as they do?

How true are the words printed on a page, or carved onto a stone 
tablet, or spoken to a audience enraptured by the verbal tapestry spun 
by the tale's teller?

And what happens if just one thing, just one character, was to differ 
from what was recorded on those pages or stone tablets or listeners' 
memories? Would the rest of the story change too? How much would it 
change?

And what would happen to the story, bent out of its shape like water-
warped wood? Would it crack under its own weight, or be made stronger?


FUSHIGI YUUGI:
TURNING THE WHEEL

PART ONE


"And so we see that King Dhaos was inevitably defeated by the very
tides of history..."

Matsura listened to the soft snores of his friend as his own eyes 
glazed over from sheer boredom. The teacher droned on about 
someone that might have mattered two thousand years ago, not 
noticing that nearly everyone in that class had sunk into a 
state not unlike that of the living dead.

"And not by a wandering lot of adventurers..."

Ordinarily, Matsura would've given Akira a nice, sharp kick just for 
enjoying himself while others suffered around him, but after all the 
studying the two had done last night for today's test, Matsura could 
see why his friend would need some sleep. His own belief on the subject
was that sleep was for the weak and those with nothing better to do, 
but Matsura knew that his own opinions didn't rule the universe.

"Mmm... Food..." Akira mumbled. The teacher stopped droning suddenly,
and Matsura frowned. _Crap! Figures that he'd give himself away!_ 

Matsura tried to reach his friend and wake him up, but thanks to the 
new seating arrangements he was out of luck. The girl that had been
put into Akira's old seat, right next to Matsura, gave him a strange 
look as he slid almost under his desk trying to reach Akira with one 
foot in time.

"Hamburgers... yes.... Spaghetti... nummy.... No way, man, yuck... hold
the anchovies..."

"What was that, Tanaka-san?" The teacher slowly walked down the aisle 
to where Akira sat with his head pillowed on his open textbook, and 
Matsura knew he was already too late. Matsura straightened up quickly, 
hoping that the teacher hadn't noticed his attempt to wake up his 
friend.

"No, come back... I can't live without you... gimme my food..."

The teacher slapped Akira's desk with his pointer. "Wake up NOW, 
Tanaka-san!"

"GIVE ME BACK MY FOOD!!!" Akira rose from a full slumber to a textbook-
perfect stance that his instructors would have wept in joy to see. Or 
he would have, if he hadn't gotten tangled up in his desk on the way. 
He fell ignominously on his ass as the rest of the classroom broke up 
into laughter. If anything, the teacher seemed to get even angrier as
the room swelled with hilarity.

"Tanaka-san..." The teacher loomed. "That's it! If you don't want to 
learn what _I_ have to teach, you can teach yourself! I want a report 
on ancient Chinese legends on my desk by this time day after tomorrow,
and your grade will depend solely on that! You will not disrupt my 
class further with your undiscipline! Out in the hall!" 

The teacher pointed with his pointer, and Akira slumped out of the 
room. Then, the teacher glared about at all the students.  "I should 
hope that taught all of you a lesson!"

The room was silent.

"Well," the teacher said, mollified. "That settles that. Now, I want 
you to pay attention as we turn to page..."

Matsura's attention walked back to his notebook, where he was dismayed 
to find doodles of his friend Akira being humiliated by the teacher. 
Quickly ripping it out, crumpling it up, and eating it, he sighed in 
relief. _Akira won't find _that_ set of pictures._ His stomach rumbled 
in protest, and he grimaced in pain. _That is, unless he's hiding in 
the toilet tomorrow..._

****

Akira rubbed the back of his head where he'd smacked it as he walked 
beside Matsura. "Aww man, why does Tendou-sensei have to be such a 
jerk? Remember how he made us both teach the class last week?"

Matsura sighed. "That was your fault, as I recall. He made us do it 
because _you_ were talking to _me_ in class. Why do you have to be such
an idiot sometimes? Why do I always get in trouble right along with 
you? And explain to me again why I'm being dragged along to the 
library?"

"All part of my brilliant strategy to one-up that jerk." Akira held up 
one finger and nodded. "If I can get a report on a Chinese legend from 
a book _written_ in Chinese, then that bastard'll have to give me some 
respect." He draped one arm over Matsura's shoulders, drawing some 
strange looks from the other passerby. "And you - buddy, pal, chummer -
are the only person I know who can read Chinese."

Matsura elbowed his friend as he slipped out from under Akira's arm. 
"If I'd've known that reading Chinese would mean getting dragged into 
one of your stupid schemes, I'd've learned Swahili."

Akira clapped his hands twice. "Such is fate. It's your own damn fault 
for learning too much for that fancy-schmancy entrance exam into... 
what was that school called again? Yoshicookies?"

"Yotsubadai, moron." Matsura shrugged defensively. "Besides, what else 
is there to do at our school? I'm not interested in girls" _Well, not 
too interested_ he added mentally, "and I'm not obsessed with working 
out and martial arts, unlike you."

Akira poked his friend in the side. "Butterball. You'd better start 
working out, else who knows what opportunities you'll miss." Then, he 
started leering suggestively. "And I'll bet I know why you're not 
interested in girls. After all, how many tentacle dojinshi do you have 
of the Sailor Moon characters?"

"One. And I picked it up because the artist who drew it is mainstream 
now. Good investment. Maybe I'll use it for blackmail someday."

The two teenagers traded friendly insults all the way to the library. 
To all appearances, they were the best of friends. Who was to know that
one of them was only half-joking?

****

Matsura looked up at the imposing facade of the library. He said, "Why 
did we go all the way across town to this library when there are at 
least three closer?"

Akira started up the steps. "Because my older sister used to work part-
time here. I know a secret." He nodded to a pretty girl with short 
blonde hair. She sauntered past him, nose in the air, and his face 
sagged in exaggerated sorrow before he turned around and shouted, "Come
on, slow-poke! Get a move on!"

Matsura sighed again. "Some days he drives me nuts," he commented in 
the tones of long-suffering to the blonde girl.

To his surprise, she responded with a smile and a friendly wink. "Yeah,
I have a friend like that." Matsura watched her walk away before a 
shout from Akira, who was already at the top step, dragged his 
attention away.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming! Jeez!" Matsura sprinted up the steps.

As soon as he reached the top, Akira nudged him with his elbow. "So, 
what did she say to you?"

Matsura took refuge in ignorance. "What did who say to me?"

Akira sighed in exaggerated exasperation. "The babe, the babe! What did
she say to you?"

"None of your business." The two stood in the impressive foyer of the 
massive library. Matsura did admit to himself that this library looked
a bit more impressive than the ones closer to home. After rubbernecking
for just a bit, he added, "So, where do we go now?"

"Follow me." With a cocky grin, Akira turned right and walked into a 
hallway clearly labeled "Restricted." Matsura reached out and grabbed 
his arm.

"Where are you going? That's restricted!"

Akira shrugged his friend's hand off. "Don't worry about it. Mika said 
that nobody cares if you go back there. They have old books they can't 
identify in a room, and I was thinking that..."

Matsura crossed his arms across his chest. "That was your first 
problem: You thought. I do the thinking around here, my muscle-bound 
friend, and _I_ think this is a stupid idea!"

Akira grinned. "Whassa matter, chicken?" Then, right there in the 
crowded foyer, Akira put his hands in his armpits and started waving 
them back and forth. "Bawk bawk bawk!"

Matsura looked around, morbidly certain that everyone was watching 
Akira humilate both of them. Suddenly fed up, he threw his hands up in
the air and walked right past his friend. "Fine. But if we get in 
trouble, you're taking the heat."

"Fine by me. You know I would've anyway." Akira hurried to catch up. 
"Anyhoo, to finish what I was saying, I thought that maybe we could 
find an old Chinese book of legends and translate it."

Matsura stopped short. "I'm amazed. That is the makings of a good idea.
Maybe you aren't just a muscle-bound idiot."

Akira stopped with his friend. "None of the ladies think I am." He 
grinned again, this time mischievously.

Matsura smacked his friend in the back of the head. "When aren't you 
thinking about girls? What would you do if we went to an all boys' 
school?"

"Never stop thinking about 'em; and probably study harder and get good 
grades."

Matsura shook his head. "You are incorrigible." Matsura started up the 
stairs, with Akira thumping along behind him.

Then, he heard Akira's steps stop. After a moment, his friend said in
a hushed voice, "Did you see that, Matsura?"

Matsura turned around. "See what?"

"The b.... Oh, never mind."

Matsura turned back around and started up the stairs again. He called 
over his shoulder, "Now you're getting left behind, y' slowpoke!"

****

The door swung open on silent, still-greased hinges. For a moment, the 
two friends stood there and looked at their shadows. Then, Matsura 
started rummaging around the wall near the door. "Gotta be a light 
switch here somewhere..."

Akira, who had come prepared, pulled a flashlight from his backpack. 
"'Fraid not, old-timer. This room isn't wired for lighting." He handed 
the flashlight to Matsura. "Let's start looking."

The two stuck close together, looking closely at the book spines 
revealed in the flashlight's cone of illumination. Then, Matsura's foot
bumped something, and he turned the flashlight down to reveal a book. 
He bent down and picked it up, reading the title from the faded, 
tattered strip. He sounded out the kanji silently.

Akira looked over his shoulder. "What does it say? What does it say?"

"Four Gods Heaven Earth Book."

Akira smacked one fist into an open hand. "I knew it! Paydirt."

Matsura cracked the book cautiously, respectful of its probable age. He
dropped it in panic when light started seeping out from between its 
pages. "What the-"

Before he could finish the sentence, both of them were gone.

****

Random images assault me young woman with long hair pulled back in 
braid throned royalty dressed to befit the station but such a sad 
expression young woman who is also young man masked one who hides 
behind the mask firebrand fighting for freedom the healer and the cat 
together boy and old man standing side-by-side finally young woman 
reaching for me mouthing...

****

Akira awoke with the taste of dirt in his mouth. "That suuuucked..." He
wasn't surprised to find out that his voice sounded gravelly; he felt 
as if he'd swallowed enough of the stuff to make one of those little 
rock gardens bored executives keep on their desks.

"No kidding..." Akira moved his head. A sharp twinge of pain and the 
sight of Matsura lying next to him were what his effort rewarded.

He stood up quickly and looked around, ignoring the minor pains that 
assaulted him. What greeted his eyes definitely wasn't a library.

It was a pastoral countryside, actually very pleasant to look at. Cows 
were grazing in the distance, there were rolling hills all around, 
trees were scattered around the area, bandits were swarming up from an 
ambush...

He looked again.

"Bandits!" Akira nudged his friend with his foot. Only getting a 
muffled moan, he kicked again. "Get up, Matsura! Bandits, seven 
o'clock!"

"Bandits?" 

Akira said wryly, "I'm pretty sure that they're not Chinese acrobats."

Matsura sat up suddenly and saw the ragtag bunch that was running their
way. "Bandits!" He got to his feet, then winced. "Damn! I think I 
twisted my ankle."

Akira said grimly, "Don't worry about it. I don't think we could outrun
them anyway."

The two waited as the five bandits surrounded them. Finally, their job 
done adequately, a man that towered almost a head over the other 
bandits stepped forward. "Okay, little boys. This is our road, so pay 
the toll you owe us for letting you breathe while you walk it."

Akira shrugged and chuckled nervously. "N-no problem. How much are you 
charging?"

"Two silvers apiece. I like the way you look, kid, so I'm goin' cheap 
on you."

Akira reached into his front pocket and pulled out his wallet. "What's 
that in yen?"

"What the hell's a yen?" The bandit chief and the young man looked at 
each other steadily for a moment, then Akira handed the chief a 
thousand-yen bill. The chief looked at it, examined it, peered at it 
closely, then blew his nose on it and threw it on the ground. "Thanks, 
kid, but I mean _hard_ _coin._ You'd better have some."

"Um, sorry?"

The chief grinned. "Wrong answer, boy." He motioned, and the four other
bandits started moving in closer. Akira, knowing it was hopeless, moved
into a stance suited for taking on multiple opponents. Matsura, who
hadn't fought anyone since the fourth grade, looked around desperately
for something, _anything_ that he could do to help. The bandits all
chuckled nastily at their obvious panic as the circle closed around
the boys.

Then, a rock to the side of the head dropped one of the bandits to the 
ground, staining the dirty neckerchief wrapped around his head with 
red, and all the bandits turned to look at the person who threw it.

She stood on a slight hill perhaps twenty feet away, silhouetted 
against the afternoon sun. Casually tossing another rock up and down, 
she said, "Perhaps you bandits should learn to fight someone who could 
defend themselves. But then, if you did fight someone who could, you'd 
get your butts kicked, right?" 

As she talked, she walked down the slight rise. Akira was struck by her
casual beauty, emphasized by the fact she was wearing men's clothing. 
Her long black hair was braided into a tight queue that hung down in 
front, thumping against her chest in time with her steps.

The bandit chief audibly choked in rage for a second, then shouted with
terrifying originality, "Oh yeah?! Well, me and the boys can beat the 
shit out of one stupid little girl! Get her!"

The woman pegged the rock at the bandit chief, who swatted it aside 
with his sword. In one smooth motion, she wrapped her queue twice 
around her neck, then threw the first bandit to reach her over her hip.
She ducked under the sword swing the next bandit tried, then slammed 
one elbow into his chest, just below his pectorals. His ribs audibly 
snapped, and he fell down hard, screaming.

The next was the bandit chief, and he kept her at a distance, having 
seen what she'd done to his minions. She wove and ducked around his 
sword swings, waiting for an opportunity.

The last bandit, not about to get into a fight against a madwoman, 
turned back around and charged the two teens with his club over his 
head. He yelled as he swung down at Akira, then yelled again as Akira 
stepped out from underneath the club. 

Akira spun around the bandit and kicked him in the ass, helping the 
bandit on his way to the ground headfirst. He gave one groan as he 
tried to heave himself up, then collapsed facefirst into the dirt.

Akira turned his attention back to the fight between the stranger and 
the chief, only to find it over. The woman posed triumphantly for a 
moment over the fallen body of her adversary, then bent down and ripped
a pouch away from his belt. She weighed it appraisingly and smiled. 
"Well, I didn't make out too bad. Speaking of which..."

She walked over to where the two teens stood. Akira was surprised to 
find that the woman he'd taken to be maybe twenty-five or so was only a
few years older than himself. She had a tattoo on her forehead too, the
kanji for 'Demon.' He wondered what kind of girl would get a tattoo 
like that, and shuddered slightly. 

She held out one hand and gave a smile that was no doubt meant to be 
friendly. "I just saved your life, kid. You'd better be willing to 
reward me."

Swallowing at the implied threat, Akira fished out another thousand-yen
bill and handed it to her. The woman looked at it, examined it, peered 
at it closely, then blew her nose on it and dropped it on the ground. 
"That ain't money!"

Defensively, Akira said, "Yes, it is money!"

"Where?"

"Japan."

The woman walked past the two teens and waved her hand dismissively. 
"Never been there. Aw well, you win some, you lose some." She started 
down the road, and Akira shouted at her.

"What's your name?"

Without turning around, she shouted back, "Tamahome!" Then, she 
disappeared around a patch of woods that the road bent around.

Akira turned back to Matsura, who hadn't said a work all throughout 
this. "What was that all..." That's when he realized that he could see 
through Matsura, as though his friend were a faded stained-glass 
window. A window that was losing all its color even as he watched. 

Matsura reached out, mouth working silently, and suddenly certain that 
his friend was going to disappear and leave him behind, Akira lunged 
for him, only to watch Matsura vanish just before his hands closed.

Akira slumped to his knees and cried, ashamed at his own weakness but 
unable to help himself. "Where am I? How am I going to get home?"

****

Matsura awoke, sure that it had all been a dream. "Damn, something 
must've hit me pretty hard, Akira..."

Akira didn't answer. Matsura looked around and found himself alone in 
the room filled with old books. For one anger-filled moment, he was 
sure Akira had abandoned him, but he squelched that thought. _Akira may
be kinda flaky sometimes, but he wouldn't ditch me if I'd actually hurt 
myself..._

He saw the book that he'd picked up lying open on the ground. As he 
bent down to pick it up and put it back on the shelf, he saw that the 
page it was open to was half-empty. He shrugged. _Handwriting authors 
were sloppy back then, I guess._ 

Then, he saw something move on the page out of the corner of his eye,
and he watched in fascination as a kanji formed on the page with 
perfect brush strokes from an invisible pen. _That's impossible!_

He picked up the book and started reading aloud. "Suzaku no Miko sat in
the middle of the road, weeping for her lost world..."

****

AUTHOR'S NOTES

Why do I choose to translate "Oni" as Demon instead of Ogre? Call it 
personal reasons. Maybe I'm just reading the wrong materials, but Oni 
from Japanese legend seem like demons to me, rather than the original 
historic references to ogres, which are more like monstrous men in 
European legends.

Yes, I do know that "Miko" translates as "Priestess" or something 
similar. That glitch at the end is intentional. And don't bother asking
me what other Seishi I'm gonna change. I don't know myself, yet. If I 
change either Nuriko or Chichiri, though, my mom would kill me...

Yeah, my mom likes anime. Don't I have a cool mom? ^_^



Aaron Bergman
iamfanboy@hotmail.com
"The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass,
leaving memories that become legend."
-Robert Jordan, _The Wheel of Time_


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