One Who Waits 2 - Past, Present, and Pain

[zakky]

Prologue
A Matter Of Time

There was nothing she could do to convince him to stay.

Listlessly, she stood alone on the rickety orphanage’s front porch, feeling the chill of the early Desert morning. She shivered slightly—not from the cold, but from the gradual onset of a bitter, bitter loss.

Moving away from her, the lanky figure of a child began to disappear into the murky distance. He was leaving the orphanage for good, and he was taking nothing with him…

…save for a reason to be alone, and a promise that could no longer be kept.

The hurt soon overwhelmed the Priestess, and she fell in a heap onto the fragile floorboards—but not before her silver cross slipped through her fingers and struck the porch floor with a sorrowful tinny sound.

Her head on the dusty floorboards, she watched through teary eyes as the boy’s form faded and disappeared into the distance, never to be seen again.

• • •

Seven nights later, the Priestess sat at her desk, half-heartedly thumbing through some reading material, dated 1388, that she had brought with her to this orphanage almost three years before. She remembered how she often let the boy into her room to read her books and magazines, all the while heartened by his eagerness to learn. They would sit at her desk for hours after the other kids had gone to bed, talking about wondrous things far removed from the Desert and the turmoil they were experiencing those days…

Sighing, she closed the book she was reading. It seemed, even after a week, she could not get her mind off of the boy.

Three quick knocks came at her room’s door, and she looked up with a start. The sound seemed to come from the upper portion of the door—none of the orphans were tall enough to reach that far.

She swallowed. Was it them again?

As quickly as her weakened body could carry her, she left her desk, took a quarterstaff in her hands and reached for the door, removing the latch and pulling it open.

A tall, heavyset bearded man in plated armor stood at her door, silhouetted by the moonlight. A large shield was slung over his back, and a massive Iron Mace hung from his belt. The old man looked down on the young Priestess, noting her short, unkempt hair, the dark circles under her eyes, her tattered Priestly clothing, and her tarnished silver cross. He remembered how she looked like only thirty months ago, the last time he visited the orphanage. She was vibrant and optimistic back then… now, it seemed as though he was looking down at an empty shell that used to be his Apprentice.

The Priestess’s eyes narrowed and filled with tears at the sight of the large Cleric in front of her.

“Father… Rubalkabara…” she uttered his name, dropping her quarterstaff and falling forward into his large arms.

Rubalkabara held her close in a comforting embrace. “The War is over, Matilda,” he whispered. “We are going Home.”

• • •

Rubalkabara sat on her desk chair, watching in the faint candlelight as Matilda prepared some bitter tea for him. While crushing the brittle leaves in a bowl, she mindlessly droned on what had happened during the thirty months since she last saw her Master. When she reached the part about what had taken place in the orphanage only seven days ago, Rubalkabara stopped her.

“He saved you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “A single Nomad boy saved you and the other orphans, you say?”

Matilda nodded, wiping a tear with the back of her hand. “I thought it was him,” she replied. “I wish I had read more about Yosuke’s writings to be sure.”

“Did he have strange eyes?”

Matilda froze. Slowly she looked at her mentor over her shoulder.

“Did he have blue hair?”

Matilda’s mouth opened, but the shock of hearing Rubalkabara’s knowing inquiries prevented her from answering.

“Was he ten years old?”

The Priestess left the bowl on the kitchen sink and approached Rubalkabara breathlessly.

“Was it him?” she frantically asked. “Was he really the one?”

Rubalkabara sat unmoving. “If the answer to all of my questions is ‘yes’…”

Matilda ran to her closet, throwing its doors open and shoving her clothes into a backpack.

“I should have stopped him when I had the chance!” Matilda wailed, packing some bread and dates into the bag. “We must find him quickly!”

She threw a cloak over her shoulders, slung the bag onto her back and picked up her quarterstaff on her way to the door.

“Matilda,” Rubalkabara’s calm, deep voice called after her.

The Priestess had the door open, but she was not able to step onto the porch outside. She had stopped at the sound of her name being called.

“You said he left seven days ago,” the old Cleric stated. “He could be anywhere by now. Do not do anything rash—your health is fading. You would die before finding him.”

“But he must be found!” she protested.

“Worry not,” Rubalkabara said, not rising from his chair. “If he truly is the one promised by Yosuke in his writings… if he is truly the child of prophecy… if the fate of Midgard truly lies in his hands… then he will be found.”

Matilda stared at her mentor, her will teetering between Rubalkabara’s assertions and her own tribulations.

“He will be found,” Rubalkabara repeated for her sake. “Ten years after his death, the first part of Yosuke’s secret prophecies has come to pass.”

“But…” she began.

“You have played your part in this scheme, Matilda. Nothing more needs to be done by you. The second part of Yosuke’s prophecies will come in its own time.”

Matilda wasn’t convinced. “In its own time,” she repeated to herself, not exactly liking the idea.

“He will be found, Matilda.” Rubalkabara reassured her for the third instance. “It is only a matter of time.”

Matilda turned to look through the door. A brilliant crescent moon hung in the deep blue night sky, throwing a pale light over the bleak Desert landscape. Her troubled thoughts gravitated to the consoling belief that the boy was somewhere among those shifting sand dunes, and that he was alive and well, waiting to be found by the person who would play the next part in this scheme.

A smile etched itself on Matilda’s lips as she wished her best for the boy.

“Isaac,” she whispered into the crescent moon.

• • •

Underneath the same moon, somewhere in vastness of the Sograt Desert, a lonely Nomad boy slowly made his way northward, unaware of the destiny that had been waiting for him for 10,000 years.

• • •

One Who Waits II
The Journey Continues

[Kyotsyu]

And again Zakky and his amazing writting strike back. What should I call it? Zakky II: Zakky Strikes back?
Out of jokes now, I'm happy you're writting this. I really like this story and I'm waiting for the next chapter, gogo Zakky.:3

[zakky]

Chapter One
Scars To Be Borne

Mikieru Makimachi drummed his fingers idly on the surface of his oaken office table, eyeing the stack of cardboard folders that towered in front of him. It was Wednesday afternoon, the middle of the week, and the Cleric was basking in the realization that this was the worst day of the week for most government employees. He spent most of his shifts holed up in his office, doing lots of paperwork and not much else, and the weekend was still three days off.

It wasn’t always like this for the tall Cleric. He had held a Prontera Constable’s job for over three years—not liking it much either at the time—until his superiors decided that his actions during the anarchy in Al de Baran two years past merited some sort of recompense. The Constabulary elevated Mikieru to the position of Prefect, giving him command over a team of his own Constables. The Cleric was at first gladdened by the promotion, primarily due to the increase in salary that went with it—only to eventually sulk at the new job description. Now, stuck in his office with a ton of paperwork due first thing in the morning, he mused at how much he missed spending the day out on Prontera’s streets, patrolling his beat and keeping the peace.

A resigned sigh of exasperation escaped Mikieru’s lips, and instead of reaching for the top of the stack he reached for the day’s periodical on the other side of his table. He scanned the tabloid’s front page, looking for something to take his mind off his job for a moment. He looked at the day’s date: May 17, 1396 SR.

Already, Mikieru thought.

It was only a week before Napolde’s second death anniversary. A more courageous soul had not crossed Mikieru’s path before she did, and a greater sacrifice had not been made before hers. Almost two years had passed since he, the Merchant Jared Wycrow, and his friends laid the brave Elf’s memory to rest.

The thought of paying the Elf’s gravesite a visit crossed Mikieru’s mind for a brief moment before it was overshadowed by the image of what caused her death.

Mikieru put the newspaper down and turned to look at the bookshelf behind him. In a locked compartment behind a stack of tall books, he had hidden two smooth, three-faced rocks. One was Jared’s—and the other was one he found after the expiration of the Taishou… or, more aptly, Urd…

Who was Urd? the Cleric thought to himself again. He was never able to find the answer since he returned to Prontera after Al de Baran’s liberation. The worry never left him, even after Urd’s death. He unnervingly felt that he was being watched by evil eyes after that grisly battle—after all, Urd had revealed her name only to him.

Getting off his seat, Mikieru walked over to the bookshelf. His gloved hand brushed over the spines of several aged books that his friends from the Prontera Cathedral had “donated” to him—for purposes of making his new office look “smart.” While the Cleric never had time to read most of them, one book caught his attention almost immediately after he received it. Finding it, he pulled it from the shelf.

He laid the large book on his table. The leather cover had the following words engraved onto it:

Mythology Of The Nordic Ages

Listlessly, he took a seat and opened the book to page 1.

• • •

On page 32, something caught Mikieru’s green-and-blue eyes. It was an etching of an old woman, seated on a rock and clothed in a tattered cloak. A bony hand stuck out of the folds of her robe and tended to a sewing wheel. Underneath the etching were the words:

Urd, Norn of the Past

…it has been widely surmised that aside from the three Norns living at the base of the great Yggdrasil’s root, there were countless other Norns existing in Midgard. Legend has it that a Norn was present at the birth of every man and woman in Midgard to determine the child’s fate. Even Odin, the greatest of the Aesir, had his fate sown by the Norns, indicating an inescapable destiny that all creatures in the Nine Worlds had to face…

Mikieru looked up from the book.

Nine Worlds, he thought. Midgard, Asgard, Vanaheim, Alfheim, Svartalfheim, Jotunheim, Nidavellir, Muspellheim, and Niflheim.

The Cleric looked out his office window in deep thought. He knew that recent scientific discoveries had largely disproved Old Nordic Mythology. For instance, Midgard was not a vast garden in the middle of an endless ocean—it was a planet, shaped like a sphere, which revolved around the sun once every 365 days. Storms were caused by meteorological disturbances in the atmosphere and not by the Norse god Thor’s mighty hammer. And the great Yggdrasil tree, whose roots the Old Norse claimed to stretch from the depths of Niflheim all the way up to the Aesir’s halls in Asgard, simply did not exist.

And yet there were still several Old Nordic insistences that had not yet been disproved. Among them was whether Midgard was truly headed towards a great Twilight—known to the Old Norse as Ragnarok—and whether or not there was a force known as Fate holding sway over the lives of its inhabitants.

Sighing, Mikieru turned the page. He had read this book several times before, and he knew that the answers he sought could not be found in the book. Still, he pored over its cracked pages, hoping that a fresh reading would unlock some badly-needed insight into the mystery known as Urd…

• • •

Three quick raps came at Mikieru’s door, causing the Cleric to look up with a start. Blinking, he shot a glance at his window—the sky was already showing hints of orange. Three hours had passed after he opened the book, and he had not noticed it.

Mikieru exhaled, closing the book. “Come in,” he called.

The brass doorknob twisted, and the massive door leaf swung inward to reveal the lanky form of Shin-ju.

“Shin-ju,” the Cleric greeted.

The boy smiled. “It’s already half-past five, Senpai,” he said, a grin on his handsome tan face. “Are we gonna practice or what?”

Mikieru returned the smirk as best he could. Shin-ju had grown up so quickly during the past two years—the 13 year-old Nomad boy was now a young man at 15. Despite the dour experiences they had both gone through in Al de Baran, the bond they shared did not waver over the years.

“Yes, yes,” Mikieru replied after a moment, arranging the forgotten stacks of paper on his desk. “You go on ahead to the courtyard. I was doing some paperwork and I must have gotten engrossed. I’ll meet you there.”

Shin-ju shrugged, the familiar grin still on his face. “Well!” he chuckled, turning to leave. “I guess you’re liking your new job, after all.”

Mikieru stopped moving for a moment after hearing Shin-ju’s comment. He glanced at the closed door with a raised eyebrow, as though indicating that Shin-ju got him there. In spite of all they’ve been through over the years, the boy acted as though it didn’t bother him in the slightest, unquestioningly working his mundane janitor’s job and looking forward to afternoon sparring matches with his Master.

• • •

Of course, Mikieru knew why Shin-ju could afford to be this carefree…

• • •

Before replacing the large book on the shelf, Mikieru glanced at the tiny letters engraved at the bottom of the back cover:

Printed in Juno, Republic of Schwartzvald

• • •

Sean Garner walked down the second-floor hallway, followed by his team of Constables. It was six in the afternoon, and he and his team was on their way out of the Constabulary HQ for their first assignment of the day.

At 28, Sean was still one of the youngest Prefects on the Constabulary. The recent elevation of his friend Mikieru Makimachi to the rank of Prefect was both good news and bad news for him—while he was happy for his friend’s fortune, he knew that his own position was slightly shaken. He would be the first one to admit that Mikieru’s sleuthing skills were superior to his own.

The sounds of combat greeted Sean and his team as they rounded a corner that overlooked the courtyard.

“Whoa,” one of the Constables commented. “Look at that.”

“They’re at it again,” another said.

Sean looked over the railing, his eyes widening at the fantastic one-on-one battle that was unfolding in the courtyard below. Mikieru and Shin-ju were deep in their Blessing trances, each emanating a bluish-white aura from their bodies. The sandy courtyard surface was marred by footsteps and skid marks—Sean guessed that most of those marks were made by the feet of the Shin-ju, since it was quite obvious that it was the Nomad boy who was on the offensive.

One of the Constables winced as Mikieru soundly blocked a sweeping mid-air kick from the boy. “That would have broken my arm,” he stated, shaking his head.

“Or your skull, if you’re not fast enough,” one of his peers said.

Sand flew as Shin-ju lunged one more time towards Mikieru, flinging a straight right at his Master’s jaw. The Cleric nonchalantly leaned away, avoiding the boy’s fist by inches, and parried the boy’s arm to the side.

Instead of getting knocked off-balance, Shin-ju’s body twisted in mid-air, like a cat compensating for a fall, and threw a sweeping backfist at Mikieru’s head. The Cleric’s eyes widened—this was a counter-attack that he didn’t expect.

“Whoa!” Sean spat as the boy’s fist swept in.

At the last moment, Mikieru ducked, planted his feet on the ground, and slammed an open palm into Shin-ju’s exposed midsection. With a grunt, the boy flew backwards, his feet landing on the ground and carving two long skid marks from the Cleric’s position. When he slowed to a stop, Shin-ju clutched his midsection and fell to his knees, his Blessing aura fading into nothingness.

“Do not be so careless, Shin-ju!” Mikieru scolded, standing upright. “You are so fixated on attacking that you make yourself vulnerable to reprisals!”

Shin-ju gritted his teeth, trying in vain to keep his hold on his Blessing trance. Soon only Mikieru had the bluish-white aura wafting from his shoulders.

“For the millionth time, protect your torso,” the Cleric continued. “The Blessing trance is a Cleric’s main advantage. You cannot afford to lose it even once by absorbing a blow to your midsection… casting it a second time is more difficult, more dangerous…”

“I know, Senpai, I know,” Shin-ju interjected angrily, the fire of the match still in his blood. “…and it might kill me if I force the issue. I know. Now let’s go!”

The boy rose to his feet, one hand still clutching his stomach as he got up. Defiantly, Shin-ju assumed a fighting stance, although he was slightly bent from the pain in his midsection.

Mikieru allowed himself to stare at his Apprentice for a moment. He felt a pang of guilt for the extra-heavy counter-attack he had just delivered, but he knew he would not have executed that instinctive palm strike if he wasn’t in any real danger—and Shin-ju’s sweeping mid-air backfist came lethally close to connecting. Although still very young and raw, Shin-ju was admittedly getting better.

Instead of settling into his own barehanded fighting stance, Mikieru turned his face skyward and noticed the dark rainclouds that were gathering in the wind’s direction.

“Shin-ju,” Mikieru said calmly, releasing his hold on his Blessing trance. “That is it for the day.”

“Aww, but Senpai!” Shin-ju protested.

“You are weakened,” the Cleric explained. “If the weather gets to you tonight, the fever is going to take days to shed. Continuing any further would only do you more harm than good.”

Shin-ju bit his lip in frustration, but knew that there was no convincing his Master otherwise. He loosened his stance and began to walk towards the steps that led towards one of the HQ’s halls.

“However,” Mikieru said, catching the downcast boy’s attention. “I will give you this much. You almost got me with your last attack.”

Shin-ju’s eyes widened. “Really?” he spat.

The Cleric smiled, raising a gloved hand high above his head. “Put it there, pal,” he said.

The boy grinned at the rare congratulatory remark that Mikieru gave him. He took a running start and leaped to return the Cleric’s high-five. Together, the two friends headed towards the steps, where they had left their towels and water canteens.

With the fight over, Sean and his Constables went on their way to their day’s assignment.

“Say, Sean,” one of the Constables piped up. “Ever thought about sparring with them?”

An audible sound of amusement came from Sean’s lips as he gave his reply.

“What am I, stupid?”

• • •

To be continued

----------

Author's Notes
LOL... Thanks for commenting. I'm glad you like the story so far.
I'll be updating every few days.

[Kyotsyu]

And here we go again!
"What am I, stupid?" <- loved it! XD Great chapter.:3

[zakky]

Mikieru and Shin-ju sat on the stone steps, resting and toweling off their sweat. While Shin-ju drank from his water canteen, Mikieru sneaked a look at him. The Cleric noted how differently Shin-ju looked today from the first time he saw him in that cold alley in the Dolter district. He especially noted Shin-ju’s face—it had the tan skin of a White Nomad, and yet there was something about his eyes, nose and lips that looked Caucasian. If Shin-ju’s skin was lighter, he would almost easily pass as a Northfolk… and a quite handsome blue-haired one, at that. Mikieru thought that if Shin-ju ever decided to refuse training in the Holy Arts, he would eventually go out and break some poor girl’s heart.

Shin-ju noticed Mikieru’s glances after a moment, and he turned to look at the Cleric. With a puzzled half-smile, the boy shook his head. “What?” he asked.

Mikieru laughed softly, turning away. “Nothing,” he said. “It is only that you seemed to have grown so much these past two years. When I found you, you were… what, four-foot-four? Four-foot-six tops?”

Shin-ju grinned, trying to shrug off the embarrassment.

“Now you are closer to five-foot-six. That is about six inches a year. I do not think I grew up that much when I was your age.”

Shin-ju laughed. “Seriously, Senpai, I can’t imagine you to be any shorter than six-foot-three.”

“Hey, this is about you, not me.”

“I don’t wanna talk about me,” Shin-ju laughed. “I’m pretty sure you’ll jab at how squeaky my voice used to be.”

“Well, now that you mention it,” Mikieru poked. “I kind of liked the way you sounded before your voice broke.”

“Gimme a break, Senpai. I sounded so girly back then.”

“Quite. Like… ‘It’s not what you think, Senpai!’”

Shin-ju guffawed as Mikieru tried to mimic the boy’s pre-teen voice. “It was squeakier than that! It was like… ‘Can’t I have something to eat that’s NOT over a day old?’”

Mikieru chuckled. “Or, ‘Whoa! I’ve never seen bugs THIS big before!’”

“And don’t forget my favorite line, Senpai!” Shin-ju whooped between fits of laughter. “Like… ‘My name is—’”

“Shin-ju Yang?”

“Yeah, exactly like that—” Shin-ju’s voice trailed off. The boy thought Mikieru finally mimicked the exact high-pitched note that Shin-ju used to have, but it wasn’t the Cleric who said the last line. Together, the two friends turned their eyes towards the courtyard, where the very feminine voice came from.

• • •

A Kafra delivery lady was standing in the middle of the courtyard, holding a letter envelope in her hand and glancing between the two men seated on the steps.

“Er…” Shin-ju stammered, getting up. “I’m Shin-ju Yang.”

“Ah,” the Kafra lady smiled, pleased. “I have a letter for you from a certain Yamakuno Yoriko, in Payon…”

Shin-ju froze.

“Serious?” he said loudly, leaping up and briskly approaching the Kafra Lady, leaving Mikieru alone on the stone steps.

Shin-ju had written several letters to Yoriko over the past two years. At some point in all of the letters he wrote, he asked what she had meant by the words she said when she left him in that Al de Baran infirmary warehouse. He had never received a reply from the girl, leaving him with the gripping feeling that something was terribly wrong.

Now, she had written back.

His heart beating wildly, he signed the Kafra Lady’s receiving list. Then he took the letter from her fingers and ran back towards the steps.

“G’night, Senpai!” Shin-ju called, sweeping up his towel and water canteen on his way up the stairs. “I’ll be in my room if you need anything!”

Shin-ju never waited for a reply. He was in the building and on the way up to his utility room bedroom well before Mikieru had a chance to answer.

Moreover, Shin-ju failed to see the grim expression that came over the Cleric’s face when Yoriko’s name came up.

• • •

Shin-ju ran to the utility room where he was staying, threw his stuff into the broken closet, lit a candle and climbed to the top of the stack of boxes beside the window. With quivering fingers, he opened the sealed envelope and took out four pieces of paper. Moving them close to the candlelight, Shin-ju eagerly began to read what Yoriko had to say to him after two years.

Dear Shin-ju-kun,

How are you? I hope you are all right. I apologize for taking so long to write back. Do not worry—I have received all your letters and I have read them all… over and over, in fact. Even after two years of being away from you, I still think of you… and it is quite funny how even your handwriting reminds me of how happy we used to be.

I am all right here. Papa told me that I gained some weight, and I am happy to hear that. I do think my body has been developing rather rapidly… I had to change my kimono sets more than three times the past year because my shins were showing!


Shin-ju noticed the handwriting on the paragraph that followed. It was still Yoriko’s, but it looked as though the girl had paused for several moments before resuming the letter.


Hmm… it seems I do not know how to keep the mood of this letter as light as I want it to be. I suppose I should just say my reason for writing straight away…

Please do not be angry at what I am about to tell you, Shin-ju. It was Papa who told me not to write to you, and he does not know that I am writing you this letter now. I am in the Archers’ Village now, about to enter my third year of schooling, and it is much easier to hide in a Kafra mailing station here, since I do not have my Papa’s eyes watching my every move.

This is the reason why I left you, Shin-ju-kun.


Shin-ju’s smile faded as he turned to the second page.


I want to say sorry. I lied to you on that day in Al de Baran. When you woke up after the battle with that monster, you asked me what had happened… and I told you how my Papa and his Knights managed to cut it up into pieces, and Mikieru-sama managed to invoke an exorcism spell before the creature could rise again. This was what my Papa told me to tell you if you asked.

But that is not what really happened…

Papa and his Knights could not even wound the creature. Its bones were harder than the blades of their Katanas. Even with their self-enhancement skills, they could not contain the monster—and it was not long before many of them, my Papa included, were wounded by the monster’s bones. When Papa and his Knights fell back, the creature began to approach Jared-sama again—only to freeze when you stood in its way.

• • •

The boy froze, reading the last line again.

He stood in the creature’s way?

That couldn’t have been true… he lost consciousness just before Akira and his Knights pressed their combined attack against the monster!

Turning to the next page, Shin-ju continued to read the girl’s grim letter…

• • •

I could not believe what you did after that, Shin-ju-kun. I saw a deathly orange aura emanate from your shoulders. And it seemed that the creature could not move while you stood in front of it—and it did not resist when you raised a hand in the air and threw it down, slicing the creature’s body cleanly into two parts!

I do not understand what happened in the several moments that followed after the creature fell to the ground… it seemed as though it, and you, were locked in each other’s stare. I do not know what you were doing. Then, without warning, the orange aura that enveloped your entire body weakened into nothingness, and you fell backwards onto the ground, unconscious. It was then when Mikieru-sama rose, took his weapon, and exorcised what remained of the creature.

The turmoil was over after that… but not in my heart.

I knew that only Demonic creatures emanate the orange aura that you did. Papa and Mikieru-sama knew this as well. They knew something was very wrong with you, and that only you would know what had transpired when you cleaved the creature in two. Mikieru-sama, however, thought that it was a possibility that you had no conscious thought when you defeated the monster. That was when Papa told me to stay with you until you woke up. And when you woke up, I would tell you the lie they had concocted if you had no memory of the incident. That was the case when you woke up… and that is why I lied to you…

So, now you know why I said those words when I left you in that infirmary, Shin-ju-kun. I truly do believe you are a good person, and not a Demon. Papa and Mikieru-sama are without a doubt only thinking of what is best for you, so please… do not hold any spite against them.

It is my wish, Shin-ju-kun, that we try, as hard as it might be, to put the event behind us. I truly do hope it is over so that all of us—you, most of all—could get on with our lives. As troubled as my heart is over the circumstances surrounding this letter, I am still trying my utmost to live my new life as an Archer as best I could.


Shin-ju listlessly turned to the last page.


Coming this June, me and my buddy Kuusuke will be undergoing training missions into the Forests Of The Moon. You remember that place, yes? It is where I was found by my Papa five years ago, and… you may think this funny, Shin-ju-kun, but that uncharted forest was also the place where Kuusuke was found. Yes, he is a Demi-human like me… a half-Elf, too, in fact. Among all of the new Archers in Payon, he is the best one among us… and…


Shin-ju could not believe what Yoriko wrote next.


…I love him.

It pains me to tell you this, Shin-ju-kun, but I truly do. Being the exact same as me, he understands all of my feelings and all that I am going through in my life… and now that he is my buddy, he has proven to be the inseparable companion I had expected him to be, and more. If things were only different, Shin-ju-kun, I would like you to meet him, only…

Shin-ju-kun, I am sorry, I really, really am. But I need to tell you the truth about everything. I am about to leave you with this letter, and I want no lies to remain between us. Please promise me, Shin-ju-kun—do not write back. Papa does not know that I am writing to you, and I cannot bear to betray his trust any more than I have with this letter.

But, as before, I will leave you with the same wish I made for you in the Tao Shrine. Please find yourself, Shin-ju-kun. Please find whatever it is that you are looking for, and most of all—please live with the Tao’s love… and my own.

Goodbye.

Yoriko

• • •

A gust of wind flew in through the small window, blowing the sheets of paper from Shin-ju’s limp fingers. The flame on the candle died with the wind, surrounding the boy with the darkness of night. Listlessly, Shin-ju looked out the window, his eyes watching the steady fall of rain outside. He sat there, on top of the tall stack of boxes, for the rest of the night.

• • •

The rain persisted throughout the night and past the sunrise. It was now seven in the morning, and a drenched Mikieru stepped onto the Constabulary locker room. Expectedly, no one was there yet. None of the day-shift Constables had reported for duty, even one hour after the swing shift had logged out. It was quite the main problem the Cleric had with his Constables.

As he took off his raincoat, the Cleric turned his head to the sound of a mop moving over the locker room’s tile floor. It was Shin-ju, and he was beginning his janitorial duties the same way he did everyday for the past two years. This day, however, Shin-ju did not greet the Cleric as he passed by Mikieru’s locker.

Mikieru sat on his bench, watching Shin-ju’s listless form as the boy rounded a corner and disappeared behind a row of lockers.

I knew Yoriko would not be able to keep our secret forever, Mikieru thought. Her soul is much too pure to live a lie against her only friend.

The Cleric lowered his head and closed his eyes.

I am sorry, Akira, but I cannot hold this lie for long, either, Mikieru apologized in his mind. But there is not much we can do now. I have to tell Shin-ju the truth. After all, the boy deserves more than this.

Try as he did, however, Mikieru could not find the strength to rise and approach the boy right away. He felt that he had to find the right words to say before he could confront Shin-ju with the lie they had perpetuated for two years.

• • •

At the Constabulary HQ’s gate, a Peco-peco carriage slowed to a halt. Its door opened slowly, and a pair of steel-toed boots stepped onto the wet pavement.

She was relatively young, yet the manner in which she carried herself exuded a bearing well beyond her years. The silver cross that hung from a choker around her neck gave testament to the rigorous training she had gone through in her youth. She was a Cleric—one of the very few remaining in Midgard today—and she was here on a personal mission, even resigning from her teacher’s job in Payon to make the trip to Prontera.

She opened an umbrella and held it over her head. She exhaled, knowing that this was her trip’s final destination. Adjusting her large spectacles, she took a look at the fortress-like building that rose in front of her.

“This must be the place,” she said to herself, not minding the cold wind that blew at her face and long auburn hair. “Prontera Constabulary HQ.”

She gave herself a few moments to stare at the HQ, as though reveling in some secret, personal victory, before she began walking towards the building’s main door.

• • •

End of Chapter One

[zakky]

Chapter Two
My Name Is Lara Murakami

“Excuse me.”

Mikieru looked up with a start, turning his head towards the locker room door and the source of the youthful female voice.

The Cleric had been sitting on a bench for the past several minutes, trying to come up with the exact words to say to Shin-ju—the boy now obviously knew about the secret that he, Akira, and Yoriko had been keeping from him for two years. Mikieru had no inkling as to how the Nomad boy would react to this, and thus had qualms about approaching Shin-ju directly. He was about to get to his feet when the voice sounded over the lockers.

Squinting slightly, Mikieru saw a pretty young Priestess standing at the locker door. Upon seeing the Cleric, the Priestess began to walk towards him—chin slightly raised, one hand on the sling of her handbag, the other swinging confidently with her stride. Her long auburn hair and purple robes trailed behind her as she trotted with measured, balanced steps towards Mikieru. The Cleric thought that she exuded a manner that was simply too mature and too curt for a child of Payon who couldn’t possibly be older than 23.

Mikieru stood up and turned his head away from the approaching Priestess. “Female on the floor,” he called over the lockers.

The clicking of Shin-ju’s mop stopped for a moment, then resumed as though the boy did not care the least.

Mikieru made a move to remove his round-rimmed dark glasses in respect. He opened his mouth to greet the Priestess, but was cut short by her sharp remark:

“Where are the Constables? It’s already past eight in the morning and the Constabulary is empty?”

The Cleric cleared his throat uneasily. “I apologize, I…”

“Fitting,” the Priestess interjected, adjusting her large spectacles at the Cleric who towered over her petite frame. “You’re a Prefect, aren’t you? I can see by the Pin on your coat. Yes, the only thing a Prefect can do is apologize for his subordinates. I suppose I can overlook your negligence, if you do not put the blame on them and instead take full responsibility for this show of clear delinquency.”

It took Mikieru a moment to give a reply.

“I will,” he said. “I mean, I do, Mother. I do take responsib—”

“Sister,” the Priestess rudely interjected again. “I’m a Cleric, not a Presbyter. Will you look a little closer and try to do something right for a change?”

Mikieru’s face contorted in a frown that he hoped was too slight to be detected by her. She was wearing a white muffler that hid her neck and shoulders from view—he had no immediate way of telling what kind of cross she was wearing, or if she was wearing one at all. Through his dark glasses, he sneaked a peek into the muffler’s folds and saw her cross—it was silver, wrapped securely around her slender neck in a choker. She was a Cleric, like him.

“I see,” Mikieru said, exhaling. “My apologies. You fooled me with the way you unloaded on me like that.”

The Priestess’s face slowly exhibited a look that could have passed for either annoyance or amusement. She placed her hands on her hips and raised a curt eyebrow at the tall Cleric.

“Your manners, sir Knight, your manners,” she deadpanned, staring at him unblinkingly. “I realize I have not been misinformed about the Constables’ rudeness here.”

Mikieru tried a little levity. “Cleric,” he corrected, taking off his dark glasses. “Perhaps you should look closer as well, Sister.”

The Priestess’s eyes widened after a moment of thought. Her hands left her hips and reached up to hastily adjust her large spectacles again. Her fingers on the frames, she looked at Mikieru’s eyes—blue-and-green—then at the silver cross hanging on a chain around his neck, then back at his eyes.

Mikieru could have sworn that her hands were shivering as they dropped from her specs. “You’re…” she began weakly, “…you’re the Kitsune?”

The Cleric closed his eyes, the edges of his lips curled in a calming smile, then opened them again.

“I—I’m sorry!” she stammered, bowing profusely. “I’m terribly sorry, good Brother! I didn’t know—the Kitsune! That means… that means you’re…”

The downcast Priestess turned her eyes up respectfully. “That means… you’re my superior…”

“It means nothing, Sister,” Mikieru assured her, the soothing look still on his face as he offered his large hand. “No offense was taken.”

The Priestess reluctantly reached up and shook Mikieru’s hand. Her face, which Mikieru swore was the epitome of the rudeness in all of Midgard only thirty seconds ago, gradually brightened into an impish grin.

“Totally sorry for my arrogance, Brother Kitsune,” she apologized again, giggling. “I’m nearsighted, see… and I sorta didn’t recognize you right away until I took a closer look. I heard stories about the Kitsune working somewhere in Prontera these days… but I had no idea I’d be meeting him so soon!”

“That is well, Sister,” he answered. “To be quite honest, I found being berated to be a refreshing change of scenery. With the exception of my Magistrate, people almost always keep their distance as soon as they recognize me.”

“Well, yeah… I prolly would’ve been a li’l more careful if I knew who you were when I walked in here,” she confessed. “From all I’ve heard about you, I sorta had a totally different image of what the Kitsune was like.”

“And what would that be?”

“Older, for sure. And a whole bunch crabbier, too.”

The two Priests laughed easily, then cleared their throats at the same time. Then they realized their hands were still locked together in a handshake, and they both let go with some noticeable haste.

She tried to hide a smile and pretended to pat some dust off her robes, and he cleared his throat one more time before continuing.

“Anyway, Sister,” he began. “What can I do for you?”

“Ah, that’s right!” the Priestess remembered, raising a finger. “I’m here looking for someone, a certain blue-haired Nomad boy named ‘Shin-ju’. I heard he was last seen working here, in the Prontera Constabulary grounds… would you happen to know someone like that?”

Mikieru’s smile faded at this remark. “Well,” he answered after a moment’s silence, “as a matter of fact, I do.”

The Cleric turned around slightly and called over his shoulder.

“Shin-ju!” Mikieru’s voice sounded through the locker room. “There is someone here to see you.”

Behind several rows of lockers, the two Priests heard the sound of a mop dunking into a bucket of water. Then, a few footsteps. Shin-ju emerged into the aisle, taking off his rubber gloves and favoring the two Priests with a questioning look—besides Mikieru, no one had ever come to the Constabulary HQ to see him.

The Priestess stood perfectly still. Even with her impaired sense of vision, she knew that the boy stepping towards her was the one she had been looking for.

Shin-ju tucked the gloves into his overalls pocket. “Yes, Ma’am?” the boy greeted.

Instead of answering, the Priestess raised her chin slightly, closed her eyes, and took off her glasses. She took a handkerchief from her pocket and began wiping the lens. Then, taking her time, she replaced the cloth in her pocket, lowered her head and put the glasses on again.

She stayed in the last position for a moment longer than Shin-ju and Mikieru expected her to, and the two exchanged wondering glances at each other.

• • •

Three quiet words escaped the lips of the Priestess. Mikieru did not hear what she said, but Shin-ju did, although the boy did not know what she meant at that time.

• • •

Mikieru cleared his throat, his usual mannerism to break an uncomfortable silence. “Shin-ju, may I introduce you to…?”

At that, the Priestess raised her pretty face to Shin-ju, her eyes narrowed and her lips stretched in a genuinely happy smile.

“Hello, Shin-ju. My name is Lara Murakami. How would you like to study at the Prontera Training Grounds this year?”

• • •

To be continued

[Kyotsyu]

Training grounds? That sounds like he's going to choose a job. Well I guess his abilities match a monk.:3 Keep it up Zakky!

[Danny Lionheart]

Hey, I've been reading your fic today and I've got to say it's pretty sweet mate: Keep up the good work .

-Dan Lionheart

[zakky]

Shin-ju fidgeted in one of Mikieru’s visitor’s chairs. The Cleric had led both he and the Priestess, Lara Murakami, to his office after the first of the Constables began arriving in the locker room. His eyes fluttered back and forth between the Priestess, seated in front of him in the other visitor’s chair, and Mikieru, who sat across his desk. The two Priests had been carrying the conversation for him—he had not said a word after he heard the Priestess’s shocking offer.

“So you’re a teacher at the Payon Training Grounds?” a question came from Mikieru.

“Yes,” Lara answered. “Rather, I used to be. I submitted my intent to transfer to the Prontera Training Grounds last week. I knew I would be making the trip to Prontera to find Shin-ju anyway, and so I decided to accomplish two things with one move.”

“Really?” Mikieru quizzed. “That… sounds like a long shot to me.”

“I know,” she confessed. “I know I actually stood little chance of finding Shin-ju when I got here, but the news article helped me out a lot.”

Shin-ju raised his eyes slightly at this remark.

“News article,” Mikieru repeated.

“Yes,” Lara answered, reaching into her handbag. “This one in particular.”

The Priestess drew out a copy of the Payon Gazette, a Common-language periodical that circulated the highlands once a week. This one was dated over two years ago. On the lower right corner of the front page, a small article was encircled in red ink.



Boy saves girl in flooded water channel

PRONTERA—Constables last week rescued Joanne Lynas, 13, from Prontera’s West Water Channel. The Channel was filled to its limits by torrential water runoff from Mt. Mjolnir, which has been experiencing unusually heavy rainfall for the past several weeks. Lynas and three other companions were apparently conducting an ocular inspection of the West Water Channel when the steel bridge they were standing on collapsed. Her three companions managed to climb to safety, but Lynas was swept away by the waters.

According to some Constables, a certain blue-haired Nomad boy jumped into the West Water Channel and managed to bring the girl safely to the banks. At the Prontera General Hospital, where Lynas stayed for two nights, Nurses also claimed that the boy answered to the name of “Shin-ju,” although neither of these assertions was verified as the Gazette was unable to find this boy for comment.

Joanne Lynas is the first person to ever survive after falling into a flooded water channel.



Mikieru gave a low whistle. “You made the gossip column, Shin-ju?” he chuckled. “You’re famous!”

Shin-ju couldn’t help but smile as he read the column, and felt that he had to say something. “I, uh… I’m surprised they got my name right.”

Lara laughed. “Anyway, this is basically the reason why I’m here,” she explained. “Like I said before, I used to be the Social Science Head Instructor for first-years in Payon. Being such, I’m entitled to give one scholarship grant to any one child I see fit every year.”

Mikieru nodded. “And you are giving this year’s grant to Shin-ju,” he concluded.

“Yes.”

Shin-ju looked up warily. “But… why me?” he asked. “By this article alone, you couldn’t have possibly been sure I even existed.”

“Oooh, well. Let’s see,” she shrugged, turning her hazel eyes upward. “Long story short… I know how Prontera’s water channels are built, and I know for a certainty that once you fall into the water, there’s absolutely no way for you to get out. I figured that there was something special about this ‘Shin-ju,’ who not only survived the channel, but also saved someone from it. I figured he was someone worth looking for.”

Shin-ju and Mikieru stared at her for a moment, and she pouted at their lack of expression.

“That’s it,” she said, a bit loudly. “Believe it or not, but that’s it.”

Mikieru turned to Shin-ju. “So, what do you think, Shin-ju?”

Shin-ju smiled a bit, staring into space and waving his hand beside his face. “It’s sorta still sinking in at this point…”

Lara laughed again.

“So, it’s settled then?” she asked. “The school year starts in a little over two weeks, and it would be best if we could finish the enrollment procedures as early as we can.”

Shin-ju glanced at Mikieru, his face expressing a quiet question if it was okay with the Cleric.

“Well, it is up to you, Shin-ju,” Mikieru replied. “Would it be all right with you if you downgraded from an Apprentice to a Novice?”

The boy replied with a blank stare, and Lara noticed it.

“Oh…” she interjected politely. “You mean you’re not familiar with the Novice-Grandmaster hierarchical structure, Shin-ju?”

Shin-ju shook his head no.

Lara smiled in understanding, turning in her seat to face him squarely. “It’s like this. Listen well, Shin-ju.”

• • •

[Tutorial Mode. XD]

“Every person in Midgard begins his ascension through any career path he or she chooses by enrolling in a Training Grounds. This is called the Novicehood stage. During this stage, the Novice learns more about his or her proficiencies and preferences regarding the various career paths in today’s society. Once he makes a career choice and earns the corresponding necessary credits, he becomes eligible for the next stage: Apprenticeship.

“As an Apprentice, one begins to take hands-on training on his chosen career path under the tutelage of one or more superiors. Usually, the superior is a Master of the individual’s chosen field of study—for instance, a Swordsman takes lessons from a Knight, a Draftsman learns from an Architect, a Priest teaches an Acolyte… the list goes on. Note that an individual may choose to remain an Apprentice for the rest of his life.

“The individual may, however, choose to go higher in his/her chosen field of study and become a Master. Eligible Apprentices may be recommended for ascension by his/her Master, and the graduation usually takes place en masse—as is the case in the Chivalry, where they hold graduation ceremonies for new Knights every March. In the Church, Priests decide which Acolytes are eligible for ordination at certain times during the year.

“As an example, Kitsune and I are Masters of the Brave Priesthood. We have the authority to take Apprentices under our fold and teach them the ways of the Clerics.

“Finally, the highest point in the hierarchy is called the Grandmastery. Very few Grandmasters exist in Midgard today. The exact details for eligibility is not known, but it is common knowledge that Grandmasters must exemplify the greatest in his chosen path, and that a sacred process known as the Rebirth Ritual is the ultimate test of an individual’s worthiness in accepting the greatest of honors. Grandmasters hold all authority over their chosen career paths, and make all major decisions regarding the practice and welfare of such. High Priests, Lord Knights, and Whitesmiths are examples of Grandmaster levels.”

[End Tutorial. XP]

• • •

Lara brushed her hair aside, as though she held great pride over the short lecture she had given. “So, you think you got all that, Shin-ju?”

“Yeah, I, uh… I guess so,” Shin-ju replied, not exactly sure.

“So you’re ready for the Novicehood?”

Shin-ju turned to Mikieru, again asking silently if the Cleric allowed this.

Mikieru nodded. “You know I have no objections, Shin-ju.”

Shin-ju smiled and slowly bowed his head. “Thank you… Senpai.”

“Great!” the Priestess whooped, clapping her hands together. “So, Shin-ju, can you like, meet me at the lobby in an hour or so? I suppose you’ll need some time to pack your things.”

The boy turned to stare at the Priestess as he heard the last line she said. “I, uh… I’m sorry?”

Lara pouted again. “Pack your things,” she repeated. “As a scholar, you get your own dorm room.”

Shin-ju turned to Mikieru again. This time, he had a full smile on his face.

“This is awesome!” he yelled, eliciting laughter from the two Priests.

“Best be going, Shin-ju,” Mikieru said. “Won’t do to keep the good Sister waiting.”

“Thanks, Senpai!” Shin-ju yelled, jumping off his seat and running towards the door. Before he left Mikieru’s office, the boy turned to Lara and bowed deeply.

“Thank you so much, Sister,” he intoned.

Then he turned around without another word and closed the door behind him.

• • •

“Sister?” Mikieru ventured.

Lara turned to him. “Yes, Brother?”

“I cannot thank you enough.”

She smiled, but shook her head as though she wasn’t following.

“You do not know how much this means to both Shin-ju and I. Myself, I have been struggling for two years to earn enough to send the boy to school… and now here you are, saving him and I from a great deal of grief.”

“Oh, you’re welcome to it, good Brother. It’s always been my nature not to stay in one place and do just one thing for any length of time. Life’s too short for that. I wanna experience as much as I can while I’m still alive, see, and this… I think this is a good release for me. But… I have to admit, I’m a little uneasy about one thing.”

Mikieru nodded. “Uneasy,” he repeated.

“Shin-ju has been your Apprentice for two years, but… starting today, he will be taking lessons under my watch. I can only imagine how it might feel for you.”

The Cleric shrugged easily. “Perhaps,” he agreed. “But we both know that this is the best thing we can do for Shin-ju, and if the boy is happy, I am happy.”

“I am glad to hear that from you, Brother Kitsune.”

“Please. You can call me… Mike.”

Lara gasped. “No!” she laughed. “That would be rude.”

“You’re telling me,” Mikieru joked. “Seriously, think about it. I would still like to see Shin-ju’s progress every now and then, and that would mean we will be keeping in touch very often. How would you feel if you called me ‘Brother Kitsune, Brother Kitsune’ all the time?”

“Well…”

“Mike will do just fine. All right?”

Lara displayed her impish grin once more. “Only if you call me Lara,” she declared.

Mikieru smiled at this. “Deal,” he said.

The two Priests, grinning like children, shook hands on the deal.

• • •

Meanwhile, Shin-ju rummaged through the utility room where he had been staying for the past two years. He opened every cabinet and drawer in the broken closet, emptying his meager belongings into a backpack. The boy’s heart was pounding—he had not felt excitement like this for the longest time. He was going to school! The mere thought made him forget about the pain he experienced only one night before—until, carelessly, he accidentally opened the last drawer in the broken closet.

The smile on his face faded as he looked at the drawer’s contents. A chimed sakkat, a few Payonese trinkets, and a letter… all of these came from Yoriko.

Shin-ju paused for several moments, staring. He wondered whether or not to bring the drawer’s contents with him. Yoriko had hurt him deeply with her last letter, but he wasn’t exactly sure he had it in him to simply forget everything they had gone through…

• • •

Please find yourself, Shin-ju-kun. Go with the Tao’s love… and my own.

• • •

Shin-ju opened his eyes.

He closed the drawer loudly. He turned around and picked up his backpack with a sweep of his arm. Without a word he left the utility room, promising himself never to return.

• • •

To be continued

----------

Author's Notes
Again, thanks for the comments, guys. I hope you'll find the story interesting as we move along. Stay tuned

[zakky]

After exactly an hour, Shin-ju descended the stairs to the lobby, catching sight of Mikieru and Lara standing on both sides of the main entrance doors. The two Priests each had a tall carton cup of mocha in their hands, and they nodded when they noticed that the boy had finally finished preparing.

“Ready?” Lara asked, a smile on her face.

Shin-ju returned the smile, nodding. “Let’s go,” he said.

The boy walked on a path that would cross between the two Priests. As he neared the doors, Mikieru and Lara each put a hand on a door leaf and pushed outwards. As the double-doors swung open, Shin-ju walked through, the crisp morning air and warm sunlight giving him a feeling of triumph.

Shin-ju stood for a moment on the Constabulary HQ’s front porch, flanked on both sides by Mikieru and Lara, breathing deeply and reveling in the fact that he was no longer a janitor and was, from this moment forward, a Novice.

The boy had never felt happier in his life.

• • •

It happened that Sean Garner and his Constables were crossing the courtyard in front of the porch where Shin-ju stood at that moment. They noticed the large backpack on the boy and wondered what he was up to.

“Hey, Shin-ju,” Sean greeted, eyeing the backpack. “Where’re you going?”

Shin-ju waved. “Hi, guys!” he greeted jovially, descending the steps. “Guess what! I’m going to school!”

Sean and the Constables were stunned.

“School?” one of the Constables blurted out. “Get outta here!”

“Exactly! That’s what I’m doing!” Shin-ju laughed, approaching the Constables on the courtyard.

A female Constable scratched her cheek at the sudden news. “Really? You’re leaving?” she said, a bittersweet hint in her voice. “You won’t be working here anymore?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I can work while I’m studying,” the boy laughed again, pleasantly surprised at the Constables’ sudden show of interest in his welfare. “Uh… you don’t like the idea?”

“No way,” the female Constable replied, shaking her head dourly. “It’s just that… I didn’t know you’d be going so quickly.”

Shin-ju grinned mischievously. “Aha!” he whooped. “You’re gonna miss me!”

Sean laughed. “The heck’re you talking about, Shin-ju?” he cracked, approaching the boy. “We always miss you. Watch this—”

The Knight swung an open palm at Shin-ju’s head, and the boy instinctively ducked, avoiding the mitigated attempt.

“Woohoo!” a Constable guffawed. “You did miss him, Sean!”

Shin-ju whooped again, getting ready for another mock sparring match with Sean and his Constables. “So it’s like that, huh?” he yelled, jumping up and running around in an attempt to land his own palm strike at Sean.

“Yeah!” one of the Constables yelled as he joined into the romp. “I swear, I’m really gonna score my first hit on you today!”

Laughter filled the courtyard as Sean and his Constables tried in vain to score a hit on the fast-moving Nomad boy. They knew that this would be the last time they could play with Shin-ju like this, and it didn’t matter to them if they were already late for their day’s assignments—they were about to say goodbye to this very remarkable child, and they were going to spend their last moments in the best way they thought possible.

• • •

Mikieru and Lara stood on the front porch, watching as Shin-ju romped around with Sean and his Constables on the wet courtyard below them.

“You will keep an eye on him, will you?” Mikieru asked quietly, not turning to her.

Lara eyed the tall Cleric. She was taking a sip of mocha when she heard his whispered inquiry. She waited for him to continue, but he did not elaborate.

“Sorry, but… why do you need to ask me that?” she whispered in return.

Mikieru sighed, closing his eyes. “Shin-ju is special, Lara,” he replied. “I have no doubt in my heart that he is capable of great things. But as special as he is, he is also troubled. I never meant to hide anything from him, but we thought it was the best course of action at that time...”

• • •

In his mind, Mikieru saw the image of a slouching Shin-ju, his eyes lidless and iris-less, his skin blackened, his entire frame enveloped in a Demon’s pulsating, wafting orange aura…

• • •

“Mike?” Lara asked, wondering what Mikieru meant with his words.

Mikieru opened his eyes, seeing a very happy Shin-ju romping with his Constable friends in the courtyard. The boy he was watching now seemed so different from the one that managed to destroy the creature Urd without even a single touch…

“Lara,” Mikieru answered, “Shin-ju has had a troubled youth. He was orphaned at a very young age and left his hometown when he was ten. He wandered the entirety of Sograt Desert for three years before he reached Prontera, only to be judged despotically by the color of his skin…”

The Cleric wanted to enumerate what had exactly happened two years ago in Al de Baran, but decided against it at the last moment. He sighed and made his point.

“I love the child,” he said. “I just do not want anything to happen to him.”

There was silence for a moment, when he allowed himself to watch Shin-ju’s playful form a while longer.

“Well, that’s weird.”

Mikieru turned to face Lara, seeing a very puzzled expression on her face. He raised his eyebrows slightly at her, as though asking what exactly she found ‘weird.’

Lara shrugged, and matter-of-factly asked: “How’s anything gonna happen to him if you don’t let anything happen to him?”

• • •

“Hey, Sister Murakami!” Shin-ju called from the courtyard. “Are we riding a Peco Carriage to the Training Grounds? ‘Cause there’s one at the HQ gates that looks like it’s waiting for you!”

Lara turned to Shin-ju, waving. “Yeah, that’s ours! Go ahead, I’ll be right there!”

The Priestess sipped the last of the mocha from her cup and handed it to Mikieru. “Thanks, Mike,” she said, winking at the tall Cleric with both her eyes. “I’ll see you again soon.”

Without another word, Lara descended the steps and walked across the wet courtyard towards their Peco Carriage. Soon she and Shin-ju would be off on their way to the Prontera Training Grounds, where she would guide the boy into a new life as a Novice.

Mikieru stood rooted at the porch, two empty paper cups in his hands, watching the Priestess as she trotted away. Her last question caught him totally off-guard. It was as if she had asked him something that was, at the same time, both incredibly idiotic and impeccably wise.

The Cleric laughed quietly at himself. Lara Murakami, he thought, turning around to walk back into the HQ. Looks like I have yet another mystery on my hands…

• • •

End of Chapter Two

[Kyotsyu]

I've read all your fic until now, and yet I can't seem to get used to your marvelous writing, you always leave me in awe.D: Keep it coming.:3

[zakky]

Chapter Three
Starting Out

Shin-ju walked up to Mikieru’s office door and knocked three times.

“Come in,” the Cleric’s voice came.

The boy turned the knob and walked in. Mikieru had his back turned to him, facing instead the bookshelf behind his book-laden desk. The Cleric seemed to be preoccupied with choosing which books to take from the shelf, besides those that he had already pulled. Shin-ju stood at the doorway, waiting for Mikieru to turn around and look at him.

Surely enough, the Cleric noticed the silence and looked over his shoulder after a moment. His lips moved slightly when he saw Shin-ju, standing smilingly at the doorway, in full Novice garb.

“Shin-ju,” Mikieru greeted, eyeing the boy up and down. “Going somewhere?”

“You know it,” Shin-ju laughed, closing the door behind him. “But I guess I should be asking you the same thing. Why all the books? And what’s with the bags?”

Two large bags were sitting on Mikieru’s visitors’ chairs, where Shin-ju and the Priestess Lara Murakami sat across each other only six days ago. Shin-ju took one of the bags and laid it on the table edge so that he could take a seat.

“I am taking a short vacation,” the Cleric answered. “I have already informed my Magistrate. I will be gone for perhaps three weeks.”

Shin-ju made a face. “Three weeks?” he repeated. “What kinda short vacation takes three whole weeks?”

Mikieru pulled a handful of books from the bookshelf. “One in Juno, I would imagine.”

“Oh,” the boy bit his lip. “Really? That far? What gives?”

The Cleric laid the books on the table. “Oh, let it lie that I have gotten fed up with Prontera after all these years,” he chuckled, turning back to the bookshelf. “I desperately need a change of scenery, and I thought perhaps the Eternal City would be worth a look.”

Shin-ju eyed the stack of books curiously. “It can’t possibly be just that, right?” he ventured.

Mikieru nodded. “You listen between my words. Juno is the City Of Wisdom, after all. I was planning to do some research on Old Nordic Mythology… as well as to find any inkling about the history of these.”

Shin-ju watched wordlessly as Mikieru turned a key in a hidden, locked compartment in the bookshelf. The Cleric opened the compartment and reached into it.

• • •

The boy immediately saw what he expected to see. Mikieru drew his hand out, turned around, and laid two smooth, three-sided stones on the table.

One was from a friend. One was from an enemy.

• • •

“We both know that I will not likely find any information about these in archives and libraries,” Mikieru said grimly, his eyes fixed on the two stones. “And that is the leading reason why I am going to Juno. I am going to ask my questions to the only person in Midgard who can be called the authority on this matter.”

Shin-ju’s eyes moved from the hated stones to Mikieru’s uncovered blue-and-green eyes. “And who would that be?”

“The person who was once my Master,” the Cleric answered, taking the Stones and stuffing them into one of his coat’s inside pockets.

• • •

Half an hour later, Shin-ju was helping Mikieru load his bags and books onto the Cleric’s Peco-peco. While the boy strapped one of the bags to the saddle, he spied as Mikieru locked the last buckle on his utility belt. The Cleric moved his shoulders easily, adjusting to the weight of the Redeemer strapped to his back again after two years.

“Dangerous ride, huh,” Shin-ju asked quietly.

Mikieru sighed. “Five days of wasteland between Al de Baran and Juno,” he answered simply.

Shin-ju nodded, pulling a belt’s free end. “You’re gonna tell your Master about me, too, aren’t you.”

The boy turned away. Mikieru looked at him thoughtfully, knowing well that there were no more secrets between he and Shin-ju. The Cleric felt guilty for having kept it from Shin-ju all this time, but at the same moment knew that this was how he wanted his relationship with the boy to be—with absolutely nothing to hide.

“Listen to me, Shin-ju,” Mikieru intoned, walking towards the downcast boy. “No one knows what really happened in Al de Baran, save for you, me, Yoriko, Akira, and a select few Payon Knights under his command. The history books will always say that the whole anarchy was fueled by Garrione’s mutiny, and that the Shousa’s warriors were able to defeat a Wraith summoned by the traitorous Taishou.”

Shin-ju didn’t fidget even as Mikieru moved beside him.

“But think about what really happened. Think about how the creature spared you from certain death. Think about how you managed to defeat it. And think about the fact that you have no memory of the incident. All the journalists and all the history writers will not know what we speak of if we ever tell them the truth… but the evil persons behind the actions of Garrione and the Taishou will, once they hear about it. And that will do nothing but put you in danger.”

Shin-ju shook his head. “I don’t understand,” he complained quietly. “Can’t we just leave it at that? Can’t we just bury it and move on?”

“I know what you mean,” Mikieru answered. “I know how much you would like to forget about everything that has happened. But there are simply too many unanswered questions about this matter. We need to know as much as we can about you… and these Stones… while times are good and the battlefields are silent.”

Shin-ju did not reply.

“Unless you already know the answers?” Mikieru asked.

At that, the boy turned to face the Cleric. Shin-ju’s mouth was closed, but his gray eyes were widened slightly, as though he had realized something very important for the first time.

• • •

Mikieru rode away on his Peco-peco, one arm raised high above his head in a gesture that he was saying goodbye to Shin-ju. The boy stood at the Constabulary HQ gates, waving weakly. He and Mikieru had just said their goodbyes to each other only moments before, but their conversation still echoed in the boy’s mind.

• • •

“Unless you already know the answers?” Mikieru asked.

At that, the boy turned to face the Cleric. Shin-ju’s mouth was closed, but his gray eyes were widened slightly, as though he had realized something very important for the first time.

“N-no,” Shin-ju answered quietly. “No, I don’t, Senpai. You’re… you’re right. I don’t know the answers.”

Mikieru smiled, laying a gloved hand on the boy’s head.

“I hope you understand, Shin-ju,” the Cleric finished. “I know that you are looking for the answers even more than I am. I only hope we will have found them when I return.”

• • •

Why did I say that? Shin-ju wondered, getting into a gray jacket. Why did I say no?

Almost twenty-four hours had passed since Mikieru left for Juno. Since then the boy kept asking himself why he replied with the negative to the Cleric’s question. In truth, he had some insight into what supposedly took place in Al de Baran two years ago. After all, it wasn’t the first time it had happened…

Still, Shin-ju did want to forget everything. Maybe that’s what made him lie.

Tsk, the boy thought to himself. To think I was being such a sourpuss when I found out about the secret, only to tell a lie to Senpai in return… still, if I could just forget about everything, maybe then it won’t be a lie, right?

The Nomad boy slung his backpack over his shoulder and walked towards the door, stopping only to look at himself in the mirror. Brushing his fingers through his blue hair, he took a deep breath. In a moment, he would leave his dorm room and join the rest of Prontera’s Novices in trooping towards the Academy Building and the first day of the school year.

• • •

To be continued

[Kyotsyu]

And another great chapter.

[zakky]

Shin-ju took a good look at the huge Main School Hall as he approached it from a tree-lined pathwalk. It looked like a cross between a stepped pyramid and a castle. It had six levels, each one smaller than the one below, with irregular walls that formed alcoves for numerous decks, atriums, and playing fields. It was the center of the Prontera Training Grounds, converging in crossroads between dormitory communities, commercial establishments, and other institutional elements. Even after only a few days of staying here, Shin-ju could already see how the Prontera Training Grounds was considered to be the best in Midgard. It was complete, self-sufficient, and beautiful. Merely walking towards the Main School Hall electrified Shin-ju.

The boy soon saw other Novices walking towards the Main School hall. Some looked no older than twelve years, while others seemed to be at least eighteen. Each one was garbed in the traditional Novice uniform, and each looked as if they shared Shin-ju’s sentiments about starting the school year.

However, Shin-ju could not help but notice the curious glances thrown his way by the other Novices. No doubt they were surprised that a blue-haired Nomad was coming to school with them.

Shin-ju sighed and kept his eyes on the ground in front of him as he approached the Main School Hall’s steps.

• • •

Alone on a balcony overlooking the fields in front of the Main School Hall, a girl leaned on the parapets with her chin on her hand. She sighed as she watched the flocks of Novices below her, moping at the prospect of spending one more year in the Training Grounds. This was her third year, and she desperately wanted to start her career in Architecture soon.

She had always wanted to become a Drafter, owing to her fondness for drawing. But her mediocre grades in Physics had discouraged several Engineers and Architects from taking her in as an Apprentice. Her friends, who similarly did poorly in Physics, had moved on and shifted to other majors, while she stubbornly insisted on trying one more time.

This year, she wished to herself. This year, I hope many things will change.

Mournfully, she clasped her arms and rubbed. This Midsummer morning was unusually windy, and the chill was getting to her. She had to go back indoors soon or she would get sick—again.

Aside from thinking of herself as a half-wit—due to the fact that she could not manage to earn decent grades at Physics even after two years of trying—she also considered herself as clumsy, unattractive, and flat as a washboard. And now, on the first day of school, she was catching a cold.

As she turned to walk back indoors, she took one last glance at the flow of Novices heading into the Main School Hall—and froze when she saw, among the crowd, a blue-haired Nomad boy ascending the steps.

She thought she was hallucinating. But after she looked away and slapped herself once, she looked again—and saw him again.

Here.

It’s him.

And he’s here.

Forgetting the chill, the girl ran back indoors and leaped down two flights of stairs. She maneuvered herself among the crush of bodies moving the opposite direction as she ran towards the Main School Hall entrance.

“No running in the halls!” a passing Instructor shouted at her. But she didn’t hear.

She jumped a few times, trying to see a head of blue hair coming her way. She pushed against the flow when she thought she saw him again, only to trip on someone’s shoe and fall soundly on her face. A few sounds of surprise came from the crowd.

Slowly she pushed herself off the ground, her face and arms dirtied by the fall, and got to her feet slowly. A Novice was standing in front of her, his hands halfway into the motion of assisting her.

Her eyes slowly rose to his.

The boy found it strange that most of the Novices who took notice of him initially showed curiosity, suspicion, and even fear after only a single glance—and yet here in front of him was a girl, gazing at his empty gray eyes with her own sky-blue stare, a smile of amazement and gladness splayed over her dirty cheeks.

“It’s you!” she whispered in awe, trying to catch her breath.
Shin-ju knotted his brow, his hands still looking as if they would reach out and grab her at any time. “I, uh…” he began. “…I’m sorry?”

“It’s you,” she repeated, swallowing. “You saved me… remember?”

A look of recognition slowly made its way over Shin-ju’s face, and he slowly returned the smile. “You’re… you’re Joanne,” the boy said. “Yeah… I remember.”

The two kids laughed at each other, trying to hide their excitement at seeing each other again after so long. Shin-ju held her by the arms and helped her walk through the moving crowd. Joanne took notice of the hands that held her—they were the same hands that furiously held on to her while she tumbled helplessly in that Water Channel. She was amazed at how his touch instantly made her feel safe, even more than two years later.

• • •

Shin-ju helped Joanne take a seat on a bench beside a nearby open garden.

“You okay?” Shin-ju asked.

Joanne made a face, lifting her foot onto the bench. “Yeah, I guess… clumsy me,” she said uneasily, rubbing her knee from above her jeans. “My knee hurts though, I think I bruised it…”

The boy nodded, eyeing the knee. “Mind if I take a look at it?”

She looked at him quizzically. Here they were, having only met each other a minute ago, and he was asking if he could see her knee. The thought made her blush slightly, but she obligingly rolled up a pant leg after a moment.

“Ow,” Shin-ju said, seeing a bad bruise on the side of her kneecap. “That’s gotta hurt.”

“N-nah, it’ll be fine,” she stuttered. “I fall when I’m excited—I mean, I get hurt like this when I’m excited—but I’ll be okay. Really. It-it’s no big deal.”

He looked at her with one eyebrow slightly raised. Then he lowered his eyes to the bruise again, wondering what made her so nervous.

“Lemme try something,” Shin-ju offered, glancing at her and edging closer.

Joanne’s eyes widened as Shin-ju moved closer to her. “U-uh… sure…”

Shin-ju took a breath and clasped his hands together. Then, without taking his eyes off the bruise, he channeled some mana onto the palm of his right hand.

She never blinked, even as his right hand emitted a faint, pale green light. Then she held her breath expectedly when he laid his hand on the gash on her bare knee.

To her surprise, the pain began to fade within seconds.

“There,” Shin-ju exhaled, removing his hand from Joanne’s knee. “Good as new.”

When Shin-ju withdrew his hand, Joanne spied an Acolyte’s Rosary under his sleeve.

“Th-thanks,” she said, smiling bashfully. “You’re… you’re training to be an Acolyte?”

He stopped for a moment. Then he sighed, pulling back his right jacket sleeve slightly to reveal his Acolyte’s Rosary.

“I guess so,” he answered, his eyes on the beads. “I mean, I don’t think I have a choice on the matter, anyway. My Master is a Cleric, and I need credits in Philosophy and Social Sciences to remain a scholar.”

“Okay…” she said quietly, brushing her fingers uneasily through her short blonde hair.

“How about you?”

“Me? Oh… I’m—I want to be an Architect one day.”

“Really? That’s cool…”

“Yeah, I guess,” she sighed in resignation, glancing at the garden beside them. “If only I was cut out for it, too.”

Shin-ju raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Mm… It’s just that I keep flunking Physics,” she confessed. “I’ve already gotten my credits for Art and Humanities, and I just need to pass Physics to advance to Apprenticeship. I’ve been trying for two years, and…”

Her voice trailed off. Shin-ju looked away and nodded in understanding, knowing that Physics was also in his curriculum for the First Semester.

After a moment, they turned to each other at the same time.

“Can I have your schedule?” the two kids asked together.

After an embarrassed moment of silence, they laughed again. Then, without another word, they took out their respective Class Schedules for the other to copy onto their notebooks.

Then the bell for the first period sounded, making the two kids look up with a start. Already, the other Novices walking in the hallways were quickening their paces to get to their classrooms in time.

“Wow, first period,” Shin-ju said a bit loudly. “I guess we gotta go.”

“Y-yeah,” Joanne agreed, handing back Shin-ju’s documents to him.

The boy hurriedly stuffed his notes into his backpack and slung it over his back. “Hey, so I’ll, uh… I’ll see you later?” he asked, getting up.

“Uh, yeah—okay,” she said, managing only to nod with a smile.

Shin-ju returned the smile, then turned around to troop towards his classroom on the third level.

W-wait a sec… Joanne thought, instinctively reaching out towards the boy. As the boy walked away from her, she opened her mouth to call his name—but her voice died in her throat. She watched helplessly as he moved into the crowd and disappeared around a corner.

Her hand dropped limply to her lap. Her other hand reached up to slap herself on the forehead, her eyes shut tight and her teeth bared in an exasperated cringe. After almost two-and-a-half years of looking for him, she had him right in front of him—and still, she couldn’t tell him how she felt!

Staring into space, Joanne half-closed her eyes and quietly murmured the words she had been practicing to say if she was ever going to meet the boy named “Shin-ju” again.

“I wanna let you know how much I owe you for saving my life. I want you to know that I totally appreciate it. Where do you live? What’s your sport? Do you like WordTwist? I hope we could hang out sometime. It was great seeing you again. Take care. I love you.”

She laughed in silent self-depreciation. Now that Shin-ju was studying in the Training Grounds, she’d have a lot of opportunities to say those words to him. But she looked at her knee and thought about how he cast the Heal spell to treat her bruise. She remembered that he was training to be an Acolyte. Now she was wondering whether it was okay for her to tell him those words—especially the last three…

She brooded on the bench alone for a few more minutes after that, not minding the other kids rushing to class in the hallways around her.

• • •

To be continued

[Kyotsyu]

Well he can become a Super Novice, he'll have heal.XD Anyway excellent chapter once again and I like the way he treated her. I guess Shin-ju has really evolved in the story, he has become more social

[zakky]

“I’m surprised that your Magistrate actually let you take three weeks off, Mike. Not so much because I thought it was impossible, but because I thought you could never afford to take a break with your new job as a Prefect.”

Mikieru had left Prontera for Juno yesterday. Today was the 24th of May, however, and he decided to stop by Al de Baran to pay a visit to Napolde Linwelyn’s gravesite. It was the Elf’s second death anniversary, and Cleric was sure that his young Merchant friend, Jared Wycrow, was in town. Now, late in the morning, the two friends were out on Al de Baran’s surrounding fields, heading towards a certain ridge near the eastern cliffside.

“It was not as difficult as you might imagine,” Mikieru answered. “My Magistrate was actually pleased that I asked for some time off. If he had his way, I am sure he would have me leave the Constabulary permanently.”

Jared laughed. “What in the world is his problem? He afraid you might take his place one day?”

Mikieru shrugged. “Whatever it is, it does not concern me. I have gone through too much to worry about such immateriality.”

The Merchant nodded, sighing. “Yeah,” he agreed. “But you’ll have to admit… there was a time in our lives when trivial matters were everything we knew.”

Mikieru did not answer right away, as he finally saw the small alcove of bushes that surrounded Napolde’s gravesite. He slowed his pace somewhat, allowing Jared to reach it before him. The Merchant stood in front of the Elf’s tombstone for a moment, in silence, before kneeling and placing a wreath of flowers in front of it.

“She changed everything,” Jared said.

Mikieru walked over to the kneeling Merchant’s side. “You must be thankful,” he ventured.

Jared nodded again.

“Back then, I used to worry when my stock deliveries were late, or when the month’s profits were slimmer than projected,” the Merchant said. “I used to get sleepless nights whenever my Trading Post was heading towards a loss. But that all changed when Napolde showed up on my doorstep.

“She showed me what really mattered. Life was too short to worry over the little things. She taught me to figure out what was really important.”

Mikieru nodded, his hair being blown about by the ocean wind. He allowed Jared to continue.

“I mean, since then I’ve been able to put up a small hotel in Alberta, opened a money-lending business at my Trading Post, and sponsored a few Training Ground scholars here and there. I could’ve done this years ago, but it still cost Napolde’s life to make me realize all this.”

The Cleric sighed. “One must lose oneself to find oneself.”

Jared slowly moved his head side to side, as if painfully taking in another one of Mikieru’s double-meaning statements. Then he answered after a moment.

“Maybe,” Jared said. “But it took someone else’s sacrifice to wake me up.”

Mikieru thought about this for a few seconds. Then he took a few steps towards Napolde’s tombstone, placing his fingers on the smooth marble.

“Do not diminish your beginnings, Jared,” the Cleric intoned. “It took the sacrifices of many other people to wake me up, and it only took you one. And despite that, you still have taken control of your life much better than I have.”

Jared looked up at the Cleric, stunned momentarily by the revelation. Then he allowed himself to lower his eyes at Napolde’s tombstone one more time.

“True,” Jared said slowly. “I guess that’s true. Thanks for saying so.”

The two friends stayed at Napolde’s cliffside gravesite for the rest of the morning, talking about how they have been for the past two years. They discussed Mikieru’s trip to Juno, Jared’s plans of studying again, and Shin-ju’s first time going to school under the eye of the Cleric, Lara Murakami.

Mikieru would stay one night in Al de Baran. Then he would set out on the arduous five-day ride to Juno, and to answers long overdue.

• • •

End of Chapter Three

[Kyotsyu]

Loved it. It's nice to see Mikieru chilling out one time or another.

[zakky]

Chapter Four
Shadows Not To Be Feared

The final afternoon bells tolled throughout the Academy, and the Novices began to file out of their classrooms. For most Novices, it was the end of the last class and the start of the extra-curricular periods. Some boys and girls made their way to the playing fields to join their respective sporting clubs, while others filed towards special activity halls in the Main School Hall. Everyone had something to do.

For Shin-ju, anywhere was fine, as long as he got out of his classroom as soon as possible. The first two days of school was very unsettling to him, owing to the stares and hushed whispers that his tan skin earned from his classmates and peers.

His last period was a Homeroom class, and the Cleric Lara Murakami was his class’s Instructor. She had asked the thirty students present about the careers they planned to pursue, and nineteen Novices—more than half the class—claimed to have interests in joining the Chivalry. A few wanted to enter the building industry, and even fewer wanted to take a medical or legal profession. In the whole class, Shin-ju was the only one who raised his hand when Lara asked for aspiring Acolytes—and the whole class had erupted in raucous laughter when he did.

Shin-ju later realized that many of the kids his age found the Priesthood quite unappealing, due to the difficult vows Acolytes had to make. One smug-looking boy had even interjected: “Acolytes can’t get any! Only nerds become Acolytes!” Lara mitigated Shin-ju’s embarrassment by telling the class that she herself was a Priestess, and that while the Priesthood is perhaps the toughest career path one could take, it was also the most rewarding in the long run.

Apparently, none of the Novices believed in ‘the long run.’ Very few in Prontera those days did anymore.

Sighing, Shin-ju pushed through a few Novices who were loitering at the classroom door, avoiding their stares as he moved past them. He was glad that the schoolday was over and that he’d be away from his classmates for at least the rest of the day.

• • •

Unknown to Shin-ju, someone was waiting for him to come out of his classroom. She was hiding behind a nearby column, peeking around the corner at his room’s door. In her hands, she held a WordTwist puzzle book.

She hid behind the column as soon as she saw Shin-ju walk out of the classroom.

“Okay, Joanne,” she whispered to herself, holding the book in front of her face as if getting ready to do something big. “You can do this… just take a deep breath…”

She peeked around the column again. He was walking in her direction. Only a few more steps… and he’d be close enough…

At the right moment, Joanne stepped from behind the column, put on the biggest smile on her face, and opened her mouth to greet Shin-ju when…

• • •

“Hey, Shin-ju!” Lara called, stepping out of the classroom. “Wait up!”

Shin-ju turned around at the sound of Lara’s voice at the exact same moment that Joanne emerged from behind the column. “Lara?” he called back at the Priestess.

Joanne still had the goofy smile plastered on her face, but Shin-ju, unaware of her presence, had his back turned to her. The girl felt strange stares from the other Novices in the hallway, thrown in the direction of her and Shin-ju. With a bead of sweat running down the side of her face, she slunk back behind the column stupidly, never losing the awkward grin on her face.

• • •

“In a hurry, aren’t we,” Lara chuckled, walking over towards the Nomad boy. “Where’s the fire?”

Shin-ju made a face. “Oh, it’s nothing,” he sighed, trying to look away. “It’s just that I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.”

“Aw, c’mon,” the Priestess teased, grasping Shin-ju’s sleeve and pulling him along as she walked down the hall. “They don’t know what it’s like. Everyone makes such a big deal about poverty vows these days. I mean, even chastity isn’t so bad once you get used to it.”

Shin-ju’s face turned red. “Lara!” he muttered her name under his breath.

Lara giggled. “You’re blushing!” she taunted the boy. “You’re so cute!”

The boy turned away and mumbled something incoherent. Lara laughed lightly, loving every moment of getting under Shin-ju’s skin. She looped her arm around his and laid her head on his shoulder, earning a lot of stunned glances from the Novices hanging around the corridor as they passed by.

They had known each other for only a little over a week, but Shin-ju and Lara had already become very close. The Priestess had turned out to be a pre-teen trapped in a 23 year-old’s body, often exhibiting traits and views that were considerably less mature than Shin-ju’s own. For the boy’s part, he was very surprised when he first got to know Lara’s true colors—but ultimately, he found a strange ease in her company. While she would never show it initially, Lara was a philosopher at heart—and Shin-ju found that it was much easier for him to confide in the Priestess than with anyone else he knew. The boy was actually surprised that he began calling the Priestess by her first name one day—and even more surprised when Lara didn’t mind the least.

“Say,” Lara piped up. “Tomorrow’s a Wednesday. Thought of something cool to wear yet?”

Shin-ju gave her a blank look. “For what?”

The Priestess pouted. “’For what,’ he says. It’s a Wednesday. Wash day. Ring a bell? You don’t have to wear the Novice rig tomorrow. The other kids usually come to class in more comfortable clothing… and, hey, I’d like to see what your taste in clothing is like.”

The boy listened to her for a moment, then stared ahead. “Gee, I… I didn’t know that. I don’t think… No, I don’t have any clothes at all,” he said. “None without patches and seams all over, that is.”

Lara laughed again.

“Well, I kinda thought so,” she said. “So I’ll tell you what. It’s still half-past three, and there’s a little Fair at Central Park right now. If you wanna, we could spend the afternoon there and pick out a few suits for you.”

“R-really?” Shin-ju asked. “You’d spend for me?”

“’Course. I mean, you can’t spend for yourself, or can you?”

Shin-ju smiled sheepishly at Lara’s kind offer. “Thanks, Lara,” he said. “But… I can’t leave the Training Grounds yet. I decided to join the Literature Club yesterday and we have a club meeting today.”

“Ooh,” Lara smiled. “You’re a reader.”

Shin-ju shrugged. “Well, it sure beats hanging around at the Dorm room doing nothing.”

“Okay, then,” Lara said, removing her arm from around Shin-ju’s. “How about we meet six p.m., at Central Park? We could have dinner there too.”

Shin-ju grinned. “Sounds great… I’ll be there.”

“Neat,” Lara said, waving goodbye as she turned down a different corridor. “I’ll see you at Odin’s Font at six, aight?”

“Aight,” Shin-ju laughed, waving. “See ya.”

The lighthearted conversation left a smile plastered on Shin-ju’s face, which was dour through-and-through the minute before Lara caught up with him. The boy then made his way towards the Literature Clubroom with a lighter spring in his step.

• • •

Meanwhile, Joanne was still behind the column. She had managed to hear a bit of the conversation between Shin-ju and the mysterious, youthful-looking girl named “Lara” as they passed her by. She had no idea who or what Lara was, but the knowledge that Shin-ju was already friends with another girl—and a very pretty one, at that—made her feel a painful twinge in her chest.

Sighing regretfully, the blonde-haired girl waited until Shin-ju rounded a corner and disappeared from her sight once again. Then she took a look at the WordTwist puzzle book in her hands, and whispered the words she wanted to say to him.

“Shin-ju, hi! You busy? I was wondering if we could hang out beside the football fields today. I just got this new WordTwist book. Do you know WordTwist? It’s a really cool puzzle game where you try to guess words out of jumbled up masses of letters. It’s loads of fun… well, that is, if you don’t got anything better to do. Hee hee. So, uh… can we, like, hang out for a bit, just you and me?”

With her back and head pressed against the column’s cold surface, Joanne closed her eyes. She smiled sadly at her own misfortune and hopelessness, and hoped that she’d have better luck the next time around… if there ever was a next time for her.

• • •

To be continued

[Kyotsyu]

Awww poor girl. Nice chapter and my opinion is give the girl a chance!:P And yet again I could imagine all the scene of the chapter, do you ever thought of writting a book?D:

[zakky]

Author's Notes
Joanne got quite a reaction in the other Boards, too.
We'll be seeing quite a bit of her in this story. Stay tuned ^___^
RE: Writing a book, well... I already have! *points at siggy*
It's just not likely to be published~ but that's okay.

-----


Shin-ju lost his way twice in trying to find the Cyril Hall among the numerous other Halls in the Main School Hall. When he finally found it, it was almost fifteen minutes past four.

He climbed the stairs to the third floor and scanned the wooden signs that hung over the doors. He stopped when he found one that read:

Literature Club

Shin-ju knocked twice and pushed the door open. The smell of paper and dust greeted him.

“Hello?” he called, stepping into the room. It was empty, save for three tables grouped together near the middle of the floor, a heap of notebook leaves and old newsletters littered over them. No one seemed to be there.

Something shuffled from inside a small anteroom to the right. Turning his head to the sound, Shin-ju called. “Anyone there?”

“Yeah, yeah, keep your shirt on,” an impatient female voice came.

Shin-ju walked towards one of the tables and stood in front of it, one hand on the table surface, the other clutching a strap of his backpack. A few seconds later, a girl came out of the anteroom.

The girl had black hair, clipped behind her head into a plume that resembled a miniature peacock’s tail. Her Payonese eyes were heavily lined by black makeup, giving her a strangely beautiful, foreboding look. She wore a tight-fitting white shirt, with sleeves that drooped past her elbows and a neckline that dropped a little lower than it should.

“Yes?” she asked, a bit curtly, one of her hands on her hips, the other loosely holding a strap of her black handbag. “Can I help you?”

“Uh,” Shin-ju began, jerking his thumb behind him. “I saw the ad in the ECA bulletin board yesterday, and I, uh… I thought I wanted to join the Club.”

The girl smiled, amused. “Well, aren’t you the weird one. People these days don’t normally join the Lit Club by choice… and only on the second day of classes, too. Either you’ve got the wrong club, or you simply don’t have a social life.”

Shin-ju shrugged at her sassy remarks, but declined to say anything until the girl finished.

“Well, anyway,” the girl sighed, “I suppose I should be thanking you. You’re officially the second staff member of the Visor.”

Shin-ju knotted his eyebrows at this. “…I’m sorry?”

“The Visor,” she repeated. “The Prontera Academy’s schoolpaper. Don’t tell me you didn’t know that?”

“N-no, I thought…”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. Can you work right away? As in, like, now?”

“Uh, sure, I guess.”

“Good.” The girl pointed to a small pile of paper on a corner of one of the tables. “Those are the articles we’re gonna put in the next schoolpaper. I want you to lay them out, throughout eight pages, as neatly and as comprehensively as you can. Sorry I can’t help you, but I have interviews with some of the new Instructors in the Training Grounds, and I’m running late. I’ll be back in an hour… if ever. I just want you to remember… I need those ready by tomorrow."

With that, the girl grabbed a notepad and a pencil and left the room, passing Shin-ju as if he was never there.

Shin-ju stared at the pile of paper on the desk.

From reader to proofreader, he thought. This isn’t what I thought the Lit Club would be…

Then he realized something.

I never got to ask her name, he thought, staring over his shoulder at the door…

Shin-ju took the sheets of paper in his hands and walked to one of the tables. He cleared the mess from it and took a seat on a stool, reading through the articles one by one. Taking a previously printed schoolpaper in his hands, he used it as a reference as he began composing the layout of the next issue.

• • •

Two-and-a-half hours later, Shin-ju was sitting on a bench near Odin’s Font, looking around for any sign of Lara. It was already a quarter to seven, and the Priestess hadn’t showed up yet like she had said. Sighing, the boy looked up at the clear blue Midsummer sky from under his hood.

Odin’s Font was the majestic marble fountain that marked the middle of Prontera’s Central Park. It was situated at a crossroads of the landscaped district, and many of Prontera’s citizens liked to unwind there after a hard day’s work. There weren’t too many people here today, being a weekday, and it wasn’t very chilly either, but Shin-ju still chose to wear a large jacket with a hood. He simply had enough of the stares thrown at his tan skin today.

Music was playing at a nearby bandstand, and some kids were playing ball and running after the pigeons in the tiled plaza around Odin’s Font. People were sitting on the nearby benches, chatting. And somewhere, a clock bell sounded the hour.

It was seven p.m., and Lara still wasn’t around. Shin-ju sighed in exasperation and got to his feet, deciding to take a walk to stretch his legs.

• • •

To be continued

[Kyotsyu]

Great update again. I guess he's going to bump into Joanne.

[zakky]

Author's Notes
Super Novice... hmm. XD
Now there's something to think about...

-----

Shin-ju looked at the shops that lined the pathwalks of the Fair. Many were food stalls, selling fruit, nuts, and farm produce. Others were apparel shops, while others drew young girls to their shelves with their displays of flashy accessories and such. Still, none of the shops interested Shin-ju until he rounded a certain corner.

Even before he turned down this pathwalk, Shin-ju had noticed faint music that seemed oddly nostalgic. He followed the sound with an irresistible eagerness. He stopped at a certain tent, where he was sure the music was coming from. A sign read above its tent-flap entrance:

Dunewear™

Intrigued, Shin-ju pushed through the heavy canvas flaps and walked into the tent’s dark interior.

Shin-ju suddenly realized why the music sounded so familiar. It was a White Nomad melody. He seemed hypnotized—within the tent, he felt some semblance of…

…home.

Shin-ju walked over to the dimly-lit front counter, where a music box played the music that he liked very much. The music had stopped only moments before, reaching the end of its coil. Shin-ju stared at the strange, gold-edged box for a moment. Then his hand slowly reached for the key.

Tenderly, the boy rewound the music box to its beginning, filling the tent with the melancholic music again.

Shin-ju turned and looked around the dim tent. Candlelight illuminated displays of Nomadic trinkets, clothing, and weapons. On one side, the boy saw wooden bracelets and anklets, coral earrings, and beaded necklaces. Clothing hued in deep browns, pale yellows, and reddish-orange lined the shelves. Behind the counter, numerous throwing knives, daggers, iron katars, and scimitars were displayed against the wall—but there seemed to be no one else in the tent.

“Hello?” Shin-ju called quietly. “Is anyone here?”

The boy walked over to the clothing shelves, all the while squinting in the darkness, looking for an attendant. No one answered him, so he allowed himself to browse the tent’s wares while waiting.

Within minutes, he had picked out a pale yellow robe, baggy brown pants, and a brown tassel. He also picked out a brown sweater—one with an oversized opening for the head and pale yellow zigzags running across its torso and sleeves. Shin-ju then ducked into a fitting room, changing into the robe and pants.

He stuffed his old clothes in his backpack and emerged from the fitting room. He walked straight towards a full-length mirror, smiling slightly at what he saw.

The robe had a deep brown trim that parted it at the middle, exposing a part of Shin-ju’s tan chest and went down almost towards his navel—it was truly a suit for the desert. The boy moved his shoulders, feeling the almost weightless fabric against his skin. He had not worn anything so comfortable in years.

Shin-ju then moved towards the counter to pay for the clothes. There was still no attendant behind the counter, so he stayed there, listening to the music for a few more moments.

The boy’s gaze soon gravitated towards a picture frame that hung on a wall near the counter. The picture was that of a middle-aged Northfolk man with swept-back gray hair. His face was devoid of any facial hair except for a goatee that made his face even more angular than it already was. His eyes were half-closed, but his stare was piercing nonetheless.

Shin-ju blinked. He could swear that the man in the picture was clothed in a black-and-purple leather uniform—the exact same worn by those…

• • •

…Assassins…

• • •

Then Shin-ju saw something move in the picture’s glass face. He spun on a jolt, coming face-to-face with a young girl in a mock Assassin’s uniform. Shin-ju hadn’t heard or felt her presence until the last moment—it was almost as though she had magically appeared behind him at that instant.

The girl had flaming, wavy red hair that bounced down to her shoulder pads. She was undoubtedly Northfolk, but her pose—hands at navel, one hand clasping the wrist of the other—and her calm demeanor upon facing Shin-ju seemed unnervingly Nomadic.

“At last,” the girl intoned, smiling slightly with half-closed eyes. “An honorable child of the Desert finally graces us with his presence. This is a glad moment indeed.”

With the middle and index fingers of her right hand, The girl touched her navel, then her forehead—then bowed her head, extending her right hand in a receiving gesture towards Shin-ju. It was the Ecrudis—the traditional White Nomad greeting.

“Th-thanks,” Shin-ju began after swallowing. “Uh… who are you?”
“I am just the attendant of this Desert Tent,” she replied. “I am an Apprentice of the Scholastic, Balthesar Yeary.”

“Balthesar Yeary?” Shin-ju repeated.

“Yes,” the girl answered, motioning to the picture frame on the wall. “He is the man who owns this shop.”

Shin-ju turned to look at the picture again as the girl explained.

“My Master rarely speaks of himself, but he has already made known to us, his Apprentices, of his involvement in the Frontier War,” she intoned. “He used to be a Knight on the Alliance’s Antioc Front. He told us that even the dishonor of failing to reach the White Nomad Capital in time was but a pittance of an insult compared to the dishonor done to him and his peers by the Kingdom of Prontera those days.

“They were ordered by their Majors, several times in fact, to attack many friendly Nomadic villages on their march to Antioc. Sir Yeary was only following the orders of his superiors, and yet he was still indicted as a proponent of those faulty raids. He was soon recalled from the frontlines and stripped of his rank of Knighthood.”

Shin-ju winced. He had heard these stories of the Kingdom’s injustices before.

“Since then, Sir Yeary has resigned from Chivalry service and instead devoted himself to the study of Nomadic culture,” the girl continued. “He has written several books on the ways of life in the White Nomad villages—based on his own observations during the Frontier War—and he has made several studies into the intricacies of the Shadow Arts. Presently, he is the only known Master of the Shadow Arts in Prontera—and I am one of his Apprentices. Our school here in the Capital, small as it may be, is known officially as Assassin Nation.”

Shin-ju turned to her. “Assassins…” he began. “You’re studying to be a Shadow Artist?”

“Your worry is uncalled for,” the girl answered him. “Sir Yeary is only working to make the Nomadic way of life known to Prontera in order to erase the misjudgment and prejudice held against Nomads here. I do not mean to assume, but I believe you have felt your share of bigotry in this city.”

Shin-ju nodded slowly.

“I am Northfolk, but even I have suffered the intolerance from others of my race, due merely to my association with Sir Yeary’s school. We do not mean to sow any turmoil here. We are Shadows Not To Be Feared.”

The girl approached Shin-ju slowly, never taking her eyes off his.

“It would be an honor for Balthesary Yeary… and his Apprentices… if you were to join Assassin Nation and be one of us.”

Shin-ju swallowed, all of a sudden feeling uneasy. He reached for his wallet.

“Listen,” he said. “I can’t stay long. I’ll take these clothes… and this sweater, here… and I’ll be—”

Shin-ju stopped with a shock, realizing that his wallet wasn’t in his back pocket.

“My wallet—” he said loudly, only to be cut off by the sight of the girl in front of him. Her right hand was in front of her, and Shin-ju’s wallet was in it.

Wordlessly, Shin-ju took the wallet from her hand.

“I am sure Balthesar Yeary would want you to receive those clothes as a gift,” she intoned, withdrawing her hand. “And, perhaps, as an invitation as well.”

Shin-ju did nothing as the girl leaned in and moved her lips close to his ear.

“It was your heritage, after all,” she whispered. “And it can be yours again, if you wish it.”

• • •

“There you are!” Lara whooped, jumping off the bench at Odin’s Font. “Shin-ju!”

Shin-ju smiled in greeting as he and the Priestess walked towards each other.

“Sorry I’m late!” Lara apologized, giggling. “I sorta got caught up with this WordTwist puzzle at my pad, and I… ooh, hey. That’s an intriguing get-up.”

Shin-ju had walked out of the Dunewear tent wearing the Desert clothes he had been given. Undoubtedly, many glances were again thrown his way—only this time, he did not seem to mind. He always liked his Nomad heritage. Only now, he did not feel the need to hide it from the scrutinizing gaze of others.

“You like it?” Shin-ju asked, striking an easy pose. “It was a steal.”

“Mm, yeah, it suits you,” Lara agreed, eyeing Shin-ju’s chest area. “I guess I don’t have to pick out clothes for you anymore. Wanna do dinner? I’m starved.”

“Sure,” he answered easily. Soon they left Odin’s Font and looked for a place to eat—arm in arm, as usual. The two were quite a sight that night.

While Lara gave her excuses for being late, Shin-ju snuck a look over his shoulder. What happened a while ago at the Dunewear tent left in him a curiosity about the Shadow Arts and Balthesar Yeary that would stay with him for days after that.

• • •

End of Chapter Four

[Kyotsyu]

:O He found some Nomad things. I didn't expect that. Good update as always.

[zakky]

Chapter Five
The Eternal City

Mikieru Makimachi knotted his eyebrows in intense concentration as his Peco-peco barreled mercilessly through the clouds.

Clouds, indeed. Who would have thought.

This was his fifth day of riding through the Schwartzvald wilderness. He had caught sight of his destination yesterday—the majestic floating city of Juno—and he had decided not to stop for the night. The sun was rising now, but he could not see it. He was riding through a dense cumulonimbus cloud that floated around Juno’s massive, rising Land Bridge. In a moment, he and his Peco-peco would emerge from the cold white mist into the majesty of the Eternal City.

Juno and the sunrise greeted Mikieru as he rode through the Eternal City’s gates. Some took notice of him as he rode by—guards, civilians, children—but none dared to stop him or question his identity. The combination of his black Cleric’s coat, silver cross, and round-rimmed dark glasses made him known immediately to the populace.

Mikieru had never been to Juno before, but his deeds were quite well-known here. Juno was the seat of the Holy Church. It has been some time since the Church began to train its Apprentices here, in preparation for their missions on many parts of Midgard. The lives of Clerics past and present were avid topics of discussion and deep study here, and the Kitsune has earned some renown among the younger Brave Acolytes in the hierarchy—although the reasons ranged from his stalwart performances in his Acolytehood to the eminence of the man who was once his Master.

The Cleric had no trouble finding his way through the cobblestone streets. His Master’s last instruction, given to him almost six years ago, echoed in his mind:

“Do not forget the place to find me in Juno. I doubt you will survive this War, but if by chance you do… then you will realize all along that I was correct in everything I had taught you.”

Mikieru did survive the War. And now, he was going to meet his Master again.

The Cleric rode onto a ridge that overlooked the entire floating city, and he stopped his Peco-peco. He removed his dark glasses and took a good look at Juno, feeling the Eternal City’s uncorrupted atmosphere moving through his being.

Juno was everything the books had claimed, and more. A clear sky hung perpetually over the city—there was neither rain nor snow in Juno. Flora and fauna teemed with life nonetheless, seemingly nurtured by the very air they breathed and the soil they laid their supports upon. Many buildings had no roofs—there was often no need for such—and people lived, worked, and played in the open. The avenues were alive with buyers and Merchants alike, going about their daily lives under the shadows of Juno’s arches, statues, and fountains. It was, in a sense of speaking, perfect—but none of this elicited any emotion from Mikieru’s stone-face, until the Cleric turned his eyes eastward and saw, for the first time, the spires of St. Capitolina Square—the Home of the Pious, and the very headquarters of the Holy Church itself.

Mikieru’s mouth tightened at the stunning sight. With a flick of his wrists, he set his Peco-peco into motion again—and he rode at top-speed towards the Square, stopping at absolutely nothing.

• • •

“Look!”

“That man has the Redeemer!”

“My God! Is that the Kitsune?”

“Why is he here?”

Awe and tension gripped the halls of St. Capitolina Square’s East Wing, which was where the Holy Church’s educational pursuits were concentrated. Acolytes and young Priests regularly studied in its halls, libraries, and repositories, and their Instructors made sure silence was observed in the Wing at all times. However, there was no stopping the gasps and tense glances that followed Mikieru as he made his way towards his Master’s hall.

Some adulating Acolytes, seeing their hero for the first time in their lives, even left their study sessions to follow the Kitsune. The whispering mob walked after the Cleric, but kept a respectful distance—it was obvious by the way Mikieru walked that he was here on a mission of importance, and would not be hindered in any way. They never missed a step throughout the marble halls, the statue repository, and the grand staircase.

The older Priests in the East Wing also took notice of Mikieru, but they did not share the excited sentiments of the Acolytes. As known for his deeds as Mikieru was, he was also known for the rift between him and his Master. Many feared the Kitsune, but the Kitsune’s Master was feared by all. Apprehension was ripe in the East Wing as it became apparent that Mikieru was heading towards his Master’s office—and he had the Redeemer strapped to his back!

• • •

Mikieru walked down a marble hall that was considerably less well-lighted than the other parts of the East Wing. He walked on until he reached a pair of large, steel-braced doors. A plaque beside the doorjamb read the words:

OFFICE OF THE HIGH EXORCIST
Lionheart

With one hand on the shaft of the Redeemer behind him, Mikieru approached the doors and pushed them open with one shove of his other hand.

The tall black doors opened with loud creaks, and Mikieru walked into the office hall. He was undaunted even by the men and women in black coats that stood inside the office, grouped around a large oaken desk.

Clerics.

With his uncovered eyes, Mikieru stared at each Cleric in turn. Every one of them recognized him, but the looks in their eyes showed uncertainty. Mikieru had no doubt that if he ever tried to take the Redeemer from the latches of his coat, these Clerics would gladly draw their own weapons and give their lives to protect the man standing behind the desk.

Mikieru then looked into the eyes of his Master.

The features of the old man had not changed much since the day they went their separate ways. He was still huge and heavyset, and still wore the same heavily-plated armor that served him well during the Frontier War. His head was a shock of short white hair, and a full white beard lined his face—yet his eyebrows were still black, giving his piercing blue eyes a menacing appearance as he returned his Apprentice’s stare with his own.

The other Clerics shot unsure glances between Mikieru and the High Exorcist. They had heard news of the Kitsune’s arrival earlier, and they had immediately come to the High Exorcist’s side in fears for his safety. They waited for any words to be exchanged between the two.

Mikieru said nothing. His chin slightly lowered and his eyebrows narrowed in hostility, he stared at his Master with unrelenting blue-and-green eyes. He needed no introduction to the old man.

“So,” the High Exorcist announced in a deep voice, “the Prodigal Apprentice returns.”

Mikieru did not answer.

“I see you have gone through great dangers to make the journey here,” the old man continued, eyeing the unshaven stubble beard on Mikieru’s jawline. “Am I to expect that you are here to offer your due apologies?”

At this, Mikieru did answer.

“Apologies may be due and regrets may be deserved,” he said calmly, never losing the intensity in his stare. “But indulgence in these will have to wait another day.”

The other Clerics visibly tensed up at the Kitsune’s audacity, but the High Exorcist was not impressed.

“As it is, then,” the old man countered. “I have it in me to have you washed head to toe, have a new cloak wrapped around your shoulders and have a gemmed ring put on your finger. I have it in me to slaughter the best ox in the herd for a feast in your honor… and yet you deny yourself this?”

“I do not ask for your patronage, Father,” Mikieru retorted. “I am not your son.”

At this, the other Clerics clenched their fists. Some of them bared their teeth in anger, almost drawing their weapons at Mikieru’s challenges—only the High Exorcist’s calm kept them from attacking the Kitsune.

“Your Holy Siblings, here, do not take kindly to challenges,” the old man warned. “But you have even greater to fear from me, Mikieru, if you do not hold your tongue. Even if you were once my Apprentice, you hold little remaining favor with me. State your business and be done with this farce.”

Again, Mikieru eyed each of the other Clerics in turn. Then he took his hand off the shaft of the Redeemer and faced the High Exorcist.

“I need to speak with you on a certain matter,” Mikieru said quietly. “Its importance is such that can be comprehended by only you.”

The High Exorcist said nothing for a moment. Then the old man closed his eyes opened them again, indicating it was an acceptable request.

But Mikieru was not finished. “In private,” he insisted.

Stunned, the other Clerics looked at the High Exorcist—and each was even more surprised when the old man nodded at them, whispering: “It is well.” They had no choice but to leave the old man with the Kitsune.

Each of them filed for the door, shooting a hostile glance at Mikieru as they passed him by. Mikieru kept his stare on his Master, even after the other Clerics closed the doors shut behind them.

The High Exorcist made his way to the front of the table. Then he crossed his gauntleted arms in front of his heavily-armored chest.

“Speak,” the old man commanded.

Mikieru slowly took two steps towards the High Exorcist. Then he went down on one knee, extending his arms slightly behind him. This was the highest form of respect in the Church—the genuflection—and the Kitsune was offering it to the man who was once his Master.

“Thank you for having me,” Mikieru intoned, “Father Rubalkabara.”

• • •

To be continued

[Kyotsyu]

Hmm... interesting. Can't wait for the conclusion.:P