Revenge: Part Five

Written by: Liz Donovan

The wind was bitterly cold as it moved along the field. The black night sky was almost cloudless now, letting the silvery white moon illuminate the entire setting. Small stars of piercing light poked through the inky blackness giving contrast to the dark. Everything stood, a muted color, bathed in silver and white. The wind died down a moment, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. The light so feeble no shadows were cast, only softened by the breathless light coming from the nearly full moon. It loomed in the sky, large and flawless, dwarfing the stars by comparison. It was the only object of light anywhere, the only thing to look towards.

She stood in front of it. The moon surrounded her head like a silver halo. It made her into almost a silhouette, the edges of her body blurred into black silverness, her vibrant white dress set aglow. She looked at the man, one hand to her mouth in stunned silence. Her cool brown eyes met his and held them unblinking. All was still. All was silent, and then he spoke a name.

His voice broke the silence, and the wind seemed to realize that the moment was broken. It picked up and blew, billowing out her dress around her. The edges softened and blurred by the moonlight behind her, floating about her on the wings of air. Her hair, too, took alight and floated around her head softened to a smoothness at the edges silently dancing on unseen currents about her face and head.

And the moon remained there, framing her face in eerie white light, making her countenance seem unnatural and pale. As if she were a Holy being, commanding the sun, moon and stars. Her breath was shallow as she looked at the man before her, and she felt as though she were no longer touching the ground, but floating inches above it, looking, looking at him.

She was an angel before him. Sent down for whatever reason, to guide him, warn him, protect him even? Her beauty was breathtaking, her pure whiteness against the blackness of the night sky. It was as if the Heavens had opened before him and she had stepped through to speak to him. He tightly swallowed, feeling tears in his eyes as he watched her. He shook his head, unbelievingly.

He couldn’t be dreaming. She stood before him, to perfect an angel to be a dream. It was as though she commanded the moon to illuminate her face and body in its milky white glow, setting her skin and face off in iridescent light. His breath was caught in his throat after saying her name. Then, it was as if that were the word to set everything off. The stillness of the picture died and the wind came back into her command, billowing her dress about her, cascading her hair precariously around her face. She was looking at him with the eyes of a mortal, but the rest of her body stood before him in the body of an angel.

He didn’t know if this was her coming to claim him to Heaven, or rather to tempt him to Hell. He realized he didnn't care one way or the other. He felt hot tears arc down his face as he looked at her. Her smooth soft skin, flawless and clear. Her hair long and black, so light about her face. He swallowed, inhaled sharply, afraid and bold simutaneously. His knees gave out, and he fell to them, on the wet grass; as though she commanded him to kneel before her. He tore his eyes from her angelic body and bowed his head before her, so that she might kill him or commend him, whatever be her choice.

She looked at him with concern as he fell to his knees before her, head bowed as though he were giving himself to her. She saw the tears fall down his cheeks as he went down and she feel a twang of sympathy for this man. She stood her ground however. She may be caring but she was not altogether stupid. She knew he might be a murder of rapist or much more, and so in her most adult voice she spoke. Her tone was regal yet laced with sympathy. "Boy, why are you crying?"

At her voice he seemed to flinch; everything was the same. Her tone, her infliction, even her words. He swallowed tightly comprehending what she said. He opened his eyes, looking at the grass below him, then slowly raised his head, looking up at her. It was a moment before his voice came to him, and when it did it came in only a soft whisper. "I…am happy." He quietly whispered to her. "…happy to see you again…." he swallowed painfully, knowing it was his fault she had died to begin with. The girl looked at him with a confused expression and lightly tilted her head.

"We have met before?" she questioned. He blinked at her question, another late tear seeping out and falling down his cheek. He swallowed, looking at her. His voice caught in his throat a moment, and he swallowed, waiting for it to return to him.

"Don’t you…remember me?" he finally managed. How could she have forgotten him? If she had forgotten him, why would she cross the barriers of time and space to reveal herself to him now? He focused his attention on her again. She shook her head.

"I do not believe we have ever met." She stated, almost kindly but with a wariness all to her own. "Boy, who do you think I am?" she inquired. He blinked at her question, and raised up some on his knees, sitting back on them. He swallowed again and closed his eyes, mustering a picture of her face again. It’d been nearly twenty years but he could still see her face clearly in his mind.

"Tendou Akane." He finally stated. He matched her face with Akane’s. The years had not aged her. He wasn’t mistaken, he knew what he thought. He opened his eyes again, looking up at her expression, to see what she thought of his answer. She wore a small smile and delicately shook her head.

"I am not Akane." She stated, perplexed unto herself. "Rise, boy. Look at me closer. The light does fool your eyes." she replied. He seemed like a giant child and she could sense no malice from him at all. Surely he was strong and could easily overpower her, but as of now the man seemed no more harmful than a puppy. He looked at her with large gray-green eyes, and then obediently rose to his feet.

He was taller than she, though not so much taller that it was uncomfortable. He was dressed in almost all black. A long black sleeved shirt, rather baggy with mustard yellow wrist guards. His pants, too, were black and laced up to his knees with an old style yellow lace. She looked at him, then up to his face. He almost seemed to quiver as she beheld him with her eyes. In a soft muted voice she quietly asked: "Who are you?"

His voice was tight in his throat, and he looked down, then up at her, and stared hard at her. The eyes were hers, the lips, the cheeks the hair…it was Akane. She was an angel come back to visit him she must be…nothing else could be as perfect as she. "Hibiki Ryouga." He stated, softly, his own name seeming vacant in his ears. She looked at him blankly and then stepped back, gingerly, favoring one foot. She shook her head a little, to say she didn’t know him, and the raised her head.

The moon had risen in the minutes since; the illusion faded. Now all Ryouga saw was Akane standing before him. As he had known her when they’d first met. A beautiful sweet girl of sixteen who had unfortunately been engaged to a man by their fathers. He shook his head, confused, looking at her. Had she come back from Heaven to warn him? Talk with him? He didn’t understand what was happening. "Wh-who are you?" he questioned, bewildered. She looked at him sweetly and then answered.

"I’m Akashio." She paused, and blinked as she smiled, looking at him. In an happy voice she continued, afraid of nothing, with only blissful innocence. "Want to be friends?" He felt his knees go weak again and swallowed.

* * *

The lab was a cold sterile place; blanch walls, and glossy floor. It was the most un- homey place in the world, yet it was the only place he truly felt comfortable any more. Mousse shuffled through the doors of the laboratory, wearing his white lab coat buttoned up, his long shinny black hair over one shoulder in a ponytail. He wore a grim expression on his face as he listened to his footsteps echoing as he walked over the tile floor. He looked up at the high vaulted blanch white ceiling. The windowless walls at echoed his ever movement. He stood in the center of the room and felt at once uneasy.

The room was fully illuminated. There wasn’t a shadow or crevice to be found. To his right stood a tall cylinder shaped object with a scaffold about eight feet above the floor. He drew his eyes that way, head turning slowly. A gnarled piece of wood was visible over the top of the scaffold, cursed at the top, unmistakable. "Show yourself." He called out. The room echoed his voice bouncing it off the soundless walls. In a moments time, she appeared.

She stood on the scaffold railing. Her long hair fell about her in cascades of silvery whiteness, a vision of what she once was. She wore her green and red shirt and her headband, carried her gnarled cane as always. Yet she was still never friendly now. She never joked. She never laughed or offered any hint of content nor feigned any. She was a rock, solid and old, and the time had weathered her to a old brittle thing that refused to break to pieces.

He was greatly disturbed by her presence. She thought he was in the computer business, designing new computers and household items. She had no idea that he was designing a most top secret project. She did not know of his plan to seek revenge against Hibiki. She did not know, yet…there she was, looking down at him with that eye. That disapproving eye.

"It’s about time you showed me your project, eh Mu Tsu?" Cologne said, in her raspy old voice. Mousse stiffened, looking up at her. Show it to her!? Was she mad! He shook his head and he just sat there, like a fool smiling at him. "You won’t show it to me, then?" she questioned after a moments worth of silence, when he made no attempt to move. He held his icy glare on the floor, mouth locked in distaste. In a deep, hated voice he stated.

"Its illegal for you to be here." Cologne cackled. An unpleasant sound he hadn’t heard for a long time. She looked at him and shook her head.

"Am I not here?" she questioned. "You’re security guards are 200 years too young to catch me!" she cried, darkly again. She turned and looked about the room, then back to him. "Where is it?" she inquired. Mousse looked at her, upon the scaffold and felt a flush of red him in anger.

"You’re standing on it!" he cried angered. She was wise but knew utterly nothing of modern technology.

"This old thing?" she stated, rapping her cane on the metallic white surface. It created a loud Pank-Pank with each rap. She made a ‘fphshaaaa’ sound with her lips, as though she couldn’t believe that was anything important.

Mousse growled. "That ‘old thing’ happens to be the newest, possibly most deadly thing you will ever lay your eyes upon!" She looked at the contraption, paused and then slowly turned her head to look at him. Her cold eyes focused on his and she held out both of her hands. He look at her hands, then to her. She kept his gaze, her expression dark and serious. In a cold voice she said:

"These..." she gestured with her hands. "…and this…" she tapped her forehead. "…are the most deadliest things you’ll ever lay your eyes upon." She paused for a dramatic moment, then closed her eyes. "The power of the human mind and body is far more frightening than anything he might create with them."

Mousse cursed her silently and shook his head. He let her believe what she wanted. But he knew, that no manipulation of the hand and mind could be more deadlier and frightening than his machine. Nothing. Cologne looked at him and shook her head, as if she knew his thoughts. "Remember it well, Mu Tsu."

To Be Continued…