Ties of Everyone...

--------------------------------------------

Why do you fight this hopeless fight...?

It's only hopeless to you because you cannot see my [dream]...

...

"You bitch," said Millina, coughing up blood as she desperately tried to stand up with dignity against her foe, instead resorting to leaning against her mighty weapon--- Ten-Pan, the mace of Susano--- in horrible defeat. "He really did make you weak, didn't he? Even now, even after you already know how false all his petty affections are, you still defend him?!"

Chang-Mi Baek only looked down on her from above, her knives dipped deep in crimson, her malicious eyes burning with love. Behind stood the masked killer, Blackwing, his "face" broken in two, his real gaze looking out upon this woman who he had tried to destroy so many years ago as she stepped forward to defend him now.

"I have always defended him," seethed Chang-Mi, her burning stare piercing through the Kuruda gang member. "Since that day he cut me open, I have never forgotten what he meant to me. I never will, no matter what you or anybody else says."

"And now you spare me!" laughed Millina, bringing herself up to a weak crouch as she braced herself against the shaft of her weapon. "You realize that as soon as I get to my feet again, I'm going to slice you open. That is, after all, what I was sent here fo---"

The gang member suddenly fell back in surprise as Chang-Mi viciously kicked her down with a furious snarl, the loud clack of metal signaling that her balisongs had just spread their wings wide once again. Millina could only grimace as her enemy grabbed her by the top of her head and smashed her face into the ground, blood erupting everywhere as her nose broke upon impact, her entire head feeling as if she had been hit over the head with a sledgehammer. She abruptly felt the sharp blade at her throat, and beyond the fog of unconsciousness she saw the white flower look down on her with her teeth bared, her body trembling with the knife in her hand. Now the gang member had been severed from her instrument of destruction, her fingers helplessly groping for her lost mace. Now, she was truly at a loss, facing real defeat for the first time in her life. And she smiled, waiting for this person who despised her so much to give her what she wanted.

"Is this all you're ever going to do, what THEY tell you to do?!" roared Chang-Mi, her voice dominating the world until nothing else existed. Suddenly, her blade fell from her hand, and instead of being pressed up against the cold metal of death, Millina suddenly found herself being pulled up by the strong hands of the traitor, pulled back from the blackness of the void. "Is that all that matters? What THEY sent you for? They don't mean anything! Not the Kuruda or the Juliannes, not of their foolish games, their rivalries, their bloodshed, NONE OF IT!!!"

Millina felt something wet hit her cheek, and when her eyes finally fluttered open again into the realm of the living, she realized that the rebel, Chang-Mi Baek, the unstoppable legend of [vengeance], was crying. And her tears of mercy now fell upon her own face, bathing her life in a shower of pity.

"I left the Kuruda not because of him, but because I was tired of never knowing who I was inside," said Chang-Mi. "I left because ever since they took me in, I never listened to that little voice deep inside that made me in the beginning, that was my very essence and life. The Kuruda controlled my persona with their order and I was sick of their rules, of being a part of their foolish ideologies, their wars, their battles, because none of them were mine. I was fighting their fight, not mine! I was dying. I was killing myself, and he showed me something different. He tied up my wounds, gave me mercy, and showed me another way to live. My own way to live."

And she pulled Millina close to her face, making sure that she saw every bit of pain and anguish that coursed throughout her body, the unforgettable suffering that tainted her past with a yellow stain of shame.

"But I did not leave for him! I left because I realized I couldn't do that to myself ever again, because I realized that there was a life beyond the reality I once knew! There is a brilliant world beyond the fighting, Millina, something incredible and wonderful. You have to break out of the cycle. You have to start fighting for yourself!!!"

…

Aa to iu ma ni…

"Before you know it..."

People will always continue to dream beautiful dreams because the limitations of the world they live in do not necessarily bring them the maximum amount of utility that they desire. Economically, this is due to scarcity, the fact that there remains a limited number of resources from which a single person can draw upon for their own expenditures before they are no longer able to derive from a base of supply. According to microeconomic theory, man is insatiable and thus he will always desire 'more' no matter how much he is given. Because of this, his optimal bundle of utility is drawn out by means of the intersection of an indifference curve (the measurement of happiness) where the curve is tangent to his budget constraint. Unfortunately, the fact still remains that he will never reach nirvana if only because he is defined with the inability to never be completely satisfied with what he is given.

But because this theory of insatiability is only a presumption made in accordance with the utility model, can man not find this spot of perfection in real life where this constant does not necessarily exist? Can he not truly reach a point upon which his consumption and expenditures becomes sufficient to fulfill his desires? Some would say yes, because human beings live only for so long with a set amount of time in which to spend the actions of their lives. By their reasoning, man's span of mortality is finite, and thus there must exist a saturation point to which he can take in and feel this thing called happiness. That is man's instant of fullest purity upon which all his desires become achieved.

However, how long does this moment last? Once reached, can one continue to keep the wind beneath his wings, flying high and aloof on the substance of his rapture? Or is it only something short lived, leaving the poor victim plummeting down towards his doom soon after because of the realization that having everything you want takes every ounce of meaning out of the process of living?

...

"I have spoke with the tongue of angels

I have held the hand of a devil

It was warm in the night

I was cold as a stone

But I still haven't found

What I'm looking for"

--- U2, "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For"

...

...

...

...

...

How long would it take for him to break down under the pressure of real despair? How long before this thorn in his side was finally plucked from his festering wound?

... the poor boy.

...

Toy mulled in his chambers as several blue-tinted screens flashed their beacons in midair and scrolled endless pages of information before his dark eyes. The trap that he had lay so far back had finally grown to fruitation. Now that Edge's psyche and thoughts had been thoroughly scanned and observed by the chip he had injected back at North Point, he could turn that information back upon the young boy and tear him apart from within. It was not a pleasant way to die. He would have avoided it if possible. Yet, the clock was ticking faster now than it was before and that scarcity forced him to take more exorbitant measures. It was crucial that Edge's demise brought about the disbandment--- if not the deaths--- of his friends as well. As key as it was that this single subject could not be allowed to reach his goal, it would be just as bad if his companions were to go on to accomplish a similar task. There had been a reason why the Temple of Ordeal had been hidden so many years ago and unearthing its remains even now could prove to initiate the same fate for which it had been buried in the first place. If these travelers truly did succeed in their goals, he would have no power in seeing the future for the world then...

"Neon," said Toy coldly, his voice reverberating in the farthest reaches of his castle as his call reached out for his newly prepared soldier. A small haze of static began to fill the air before him as thousands of molecules began to phase in upon command, gathering in an intangible mist as their structures began to settle. Slowly, they grew stronger, more solid, until huge metal plating suddenly stood where only air had been once before. A massive mecha finally materialized into the darkness, its enormous bulk rising above even Yujin's impressive stature as the few beams of light that invaded the empty void reflected off its newly polished hide. It possessed none of the special synthetics like those of its comrades to make him better resemble a human being, instead being covered from head to toe in a thick steel plating that was as cold as its immovable silence. Enormous hands constructed solely for combat were tautly held at its side, held up by equally colossal gears positioned at the ends of its shoulder-blades, remaining hidden beneath broad layers of glistening armor. Even its face held nothing that spoke of compassion, the network of shielding continuing to work up from its neck and over its jaw so as to obscure any possible feature of emotion. Its dully glowing pair of angry eyes were the only indicator of sentience beneath the impenetrable shell, and yet even those remained hidden in the shadows beneath the visor of its helmet, a covering that somewhat resembled the dress cap of a military official but remained constructed out of the same solid substance that protected the rest of his body, bolted to his head, as immovable as everything else. Everything about its posture demanded respect, if only because of its imposing boast of raw power. However, Toy knew that beneath the impressive image was also built a soldier that could easily back up its appearance.

"Yes, Toy-sama?" said the lumbering giant methodically. The emperor forced himself to suppress a sigh before his newly constructed warrior, even though the poor thing wouldn't even flinch at the sound of such subtle contempt. He truly did appreciate talking to a real voice rather than a pre-fabricated servant. The latter never produced the kind of fire that showed him the determination and personality he looked for in his other soldiers. However, recently he had become less and less sure of the reliability of his warriors. Yujin's recent behavior was certainly as unexpected as it was troublesome, something that seemed to be continuously impeding the progress of his plans. It was for the same reason that he was restraining his primary general that he had begun to employ the upgraded akuma chips to restrict the freedom of his newer minions . It was already too late in the game for any more errors. He needed the last stages of his orders to be carried out with exact precision if he was to still come out on top.

"I'm sure Yuusuke has already given you a data briefing on the current situation," said Toy casually, a single mental thought flickering off the many screens full of data that hindered his view of his newest recruit. "Your recent construction has been for the purpose of eliminating a specific renegade mecha and his allies. I'm sure you have already analyzed their weapons and capabilities in advance for this mission."

"Yes, Toy-sama," replied Neon coldly. He had not moved an inch since teleporting into the chamber.

"Mmm," mumbled Toy approvingly. "The mecha are currently being held in custody in the residence of Yoshiki Sang-Wu, who has kindly opted to hold them for me until your arrival. I believe he has some business to finish with his son before he begins the executions of the others, one of his rather... insistent stipulations in this current agreement. Your only task is to make sure those executions are carried out without fail, if not by Yoshiki, then by your own hands."

"Understood, Toy-sama," said the giant. "The marked subjects will be incapacitated."

"You have two squads of marines to use at your disposal. Yoshiki has his own army of corazon chip soldiers if any backup is required. Yuusuke and Vomisa will also be accompanying you on this assignment for extra firepower. I'm sure that you'll find out from recent battle logs that their abilities will be much needed for this situation." Toy paused for a moment as his fingers drummed decisively on the edge of his cold throne, his mind turning as he considered the future benefits and consequences of an additional player. A final click on the firm material signaled his decision, simple necessity taking precedence over his precautions. "Take Yujin with you as well. Despite his recent conduct, his strength will most likely be necessary to subdue your targets, no matter how unpredictable he may be. If you feel that he is jeopardizing the assignment, feel free to remedy the situation at your best discretion." However, he seriously doubted matters would have to reach that stage. This task contained what Yujin seemed to do best: complete and thorough destruction of the enemy. As long as Edge remained under the influence of the sueno chip, it mattered little as to what happened to the boy's physical being. His friends would merely believe his demise to be attributed to the unexpected comma, the death of his body simply the final pact with which to seal his already accelerating fall from elegance. In this case, Yujin's often over-exuberant enthusiasm would have little effect in changing the desired output. All the pieces of the puzzle easily fell into place and his men would simply be there to sweep up the leftovers.

The monstrous mecha's eyes seemed to flare with a sense of understanding as the rest of his body continued to remain eerily still, the only sound penetrating the room being the soft hum of the behemoth's generator. Toy gave the warrior a curt nod of approval at the acknowledgement and Neon abruptly dematerialized once again, his body scattering into the air as he hurried off to begin the preparations needed for the excursion at hand. Certainly, this one had the power to pull through a decisive victory, more so with Yujin and the others at his side. The chip served its purpose well enough in destroying the party's leader and throwing the others into panic. Even the gangster seemed to be competent enough in restraining their numbers until a final punishment could be arranged. For once, all of his objectives were being met. All the actors said their lines at the right moments and the stage blazed with brilliant light in the wake of their performance. All he had to do was wait a little longer and this adversity would be ended without a trace left of its permanence.

So why did the anxiety continue to linger?

"Am I forgetting something?" mumbled Toy to himself out loud, the many computer screens popping back into the air before him upon command, his eyes pouring over the bits of scrolling info in an attempt to relieve himself of his worry. Technically, his programming for the chip was perfect. Tactically, he was succeeding in disabling and dethroning his opponent in their greatest state of weakness. Logically, this victory should be secured with ease. And yet, he continued to feel as if there was a variable that had slipped past his train of thought, something that was too deeply concealed beneath the simple exterior of this renegade so that he could not see it with merely his eyes.

The great king's gaze turned back to look up at the enforcer, the cold statue never wavering in its guard, his staff always in hand to strike down any foe foolish enough to come too close. For some reason, he felt the doubt reflected in the dead stare of the goliath as well, a hesitancy that gnawed at the back of his mind like a vicious parasite whose deadly infection would take effect long before he actually had the time to reach back and crush the life out of the creature with his own hands. However, like with Edge, he could neither see nor decipher the scourge, the horrible beast hidden far too deep in its lair for him to discern the insatiable hunger in its starving eyes.

...

...

...

"I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOU!!!"

No matter how much you try to change yourself, you can't change who you are deep within. No matter how far you run, no matter how deeply you try to hide yourself in the shadow of righteousness, you cannot escape. You will always be the son of Yoshiki Sang-Wu, the horrible monster.

"No! Fuck you! Fuck you, goddamnit, I hate you!!!"

Bound by blood, you cannot escape. For years, you've chosen to oppose your childhood, this life you've grown up in. You've chosen to act as though you were above your father, above his killing, his cruelty, his lifestyle. And yet, what have you become? Have you truly ascended beyond your object of hatred? Or rather has your path merely paralleled his own, branching off from his method of barbarism but only managing to mimic that savagery with your own kind of untamed desire? Maybe you are not quite as different as your first thought.Maybe you hide what you really want beneath this false sense of justice that you have attained, this denial, this refusal to accept what is already yours. You cannot escape this destiny.

"I don't believe in your goddamn destiny, you bastard! I'm my own person. I have my own ideals, my own dreams, and no matter how hard you try you'll never be able to take them away from me!"

What are your dreams? Your ideals? Already, deep inside, you care so little for those around you as long as you can get what you want. Doesn't that make you the same as him? Doesn't that make you just as horrible?

"I won't listen to you... I won't listen to you!!!"

No matter how much you look away, no matter how much you try to ignore it, you are still the son of Yoshiki Sang-Wu. You are the offspring of the harrowing beast, the heir to his reign of blood and death. For now, you may safely hide behind your veil of ignorance, but you cannot run forever...

"... leave me alone."

...

"... just leave me alone..."

...

...

...

Colors swirled madly before Fumiya's eyes as he struggled to regain consciousness, his head throbbing in heavy pulses that made him want to vomit. His entire body ached as though every muscle in his body had been cut open and left to bleed for days, his neck and shoulders burning like fire as he forced himself to lift his gaze from his feet and stare out into the blackness of his prison. Even then the world moved with a swaying motion that made him sick to the stomach, but he forced himself to keep his eyes open, knowing that they would focus on the unsteady picture before long.

The deep outlines of shadows slowly became apparent in the darkness, a single candle set upon a table to his right bearing the only light in the room. He was surprised to find himself in a chamber of glamour, of velvet carpeting and elegant oil paintings lining walls of finely polished wood. Everything was set out in perfect neatness, a table before him bearing intricately cut crackers and what appeared to be a pot of tea with silver teacups to match, a finely carved couch and desk arranged around it as for a conversation between an employer and his staff. It was a far cry from the stone and steel he expected to be caged in, but it was still a dungeon nonetheless. If nothing else, it only reminded him of what such luxury meant to him as a child.

Fumiya spat as he tasted blood in his mouth, testing the strength of his sore limbs before he explored his new surroundings. He stopped short when he found himself jerked back towards the wall, a rattle of metal accompanying the resistance in his movement. Angrily cocking his head back, he noticed the heavy chains that kept him lashed back like an animal, taunt lines that bit into his wrists and ankles with no mercy in their hold, keeping his hands firmly above his head so that he wouldn't even have a chance to reach his other bonds. A firm tug and the resulting agony in his muscles was all it took for him to know that his shackles were far too strong for him to break alone, even if he had been at full strength. He grit his teeth as initial frustration quickly built up into rage, but forced himself to calm down, knowing that stirring up his sickness now would do nothing to solve his problems. Perhaps when he was free from this trap would he let loose his fury, but until then he couldn't afford to loose sight of his path.

"Perfect..." he muttered, his voice cracking as his dry throat cried for moisture, receiving only a bitter copper taste as he coughed up more blood. He contemptuously spat out the acrid substance as he forced himself to scan the room once again, making himself ignore the anger and look for anything that might be able to break him loose.

"That was an expensive rug," muttered Yoshiki, his voice suddenly piercing the empty silence. "But it is nice to see you again." The gangster abruptly swirled about in his chair behind the desk, an annoyed grin creasing his otherwise unreadable expression. And yet, there remained the same glimmer in his eyes that Fumiya had always hated, that horrible mark of the monster that he really was behind the suit and smile.

Despite the pain racking his body, the mercenary still felt himself grow tense as his hands clenched into fists so tightly that warm trickles of crimson fell in tight rivulets down his arms, the feeling of his life fluid against his flesh only driving him deeper into madness. He barely even noticed how fiercely he was pulling against his restraints until the sharp screeching of the tight chains dragged his mind back from oblivion. It only seemed to amuse his father.

"This is the best welcome you can give me after you've been gone for so long?" said Yoshiki wryly. "Not even a 'hello' for dear old dad?"

"You're not my father," growled Fumiya, torn between a desperate desire to tear out the man’s throat and the sheer fact that he was chained to a wall. "You have no right to call yourself that. No fucking right!!!"

"Do I?" questioned the gangster, raising an eyebrow at his son as his playful mood suddenly darkened with resentment. "To what do I owe this ingratitude? I have given you more than any parent in this world could ever afford to give their child. I have provided you with luxuries that most people only dream of. Food, education, a dry roof, even petty recreation for your own amusement. Even now, after receiving years of your contempt, I bring you in alive to my private chambers. And, as I have in the past, I extend my hand to you once again for you to join my side once more, and you continue to deny my existence."

"You never understood, did you?" spat Fumiya, his body nearly smoking as he felt adrenaline pound in his ears, his mind struggling to endure his wrath if only so his mouth could form the words of bitter hatred. "Did you honestly think any of that mattered to me after all the horrible things you made me see? Did you really think that I'd hold any affection for you whatsoever when you killed people in front of my eyes and laughed at their deaths?"

"Really, I expected you to be a little more callous as you grew up," muttered Yoshiki in disdain, picking up a small steel bauble from the top of his desk and playing with it between his fingers. "What do you think the real world is like compared to what I've given you? Paradise? A walk in the park? I fought long and hard to carve out my life. I clawed my way up a ladder of dishonest thieves and assassins to get where I am today, and you dare question the method through which I provide for you?" The small toy suddenly suspended itself in midair for a second just before the gangster's fist crushed it between his strong grip, the anger smoldering on his face as his mouth turned down in an unappreciative grimace. "Is it not the purpose of the parent to give the most they can for their children? Is it not my purpose as your father to make sure you grow up properly in this world? This place you live in is not a perfect one. It is plagued by a people gone mad, who would slit your throat for your wallet if you don't slit theirs first. If I never showed you those things, what do you think would have happened to you the second you stepped out of this household? I did those things for you, Fumiya!"

"Don't you dare say that," breathed the mercenary, nearly biting his tongue to keep his rage from spilling over. "Don't you dare say that!!! What child needs to see the kind of crap you showed me?! What goddamn sense of greatness did you think you were bestowing upon my being?!"

"Out there exists no real sense of right and wrong, only the people who are strong versus the people who are weak," said the gangster coldly in reply. "The world out there is only a corrupt government looking out for its best interests, leaving their so-called citizens to fight for themselves in a massive arena called life for a prize called survival. Now, look at yourself honestly for a moment and tell me what would have happened to you if you had not seen those things I had shown you? If you ventured out into that world innocent and fresh, they would have raped you blind, taking advantage of every ounce of flesh on your body. Do you think it's any different in the slums of the city? That the parents in that region teach their offspring all those wonderful sugary sweet things you'd like to think they should be taught? No, the smart ones teach their kin to avoid authority because the police exist only to collect their salary and keep others out of government business. They teach them to run like hell at the first sight of a gang fight because a small child would only get slaughtered as a bystander. That is how people today survive, Fumiya. What I willingly bestowed upon you for your benefit, they must unwillingly suffer every day of their lives. Perhaps you may think you could have simply resided here your entire life, safe beneath this household. But one day I will be gone, and the enemies I have made will spare nothing in their dogfight to claim the prize of my dead carcass. When that day comes, I want you to be there, to fight back for what is yours and be able to provide for your own children in the future."

"No, no..." seethed Fumiya, baring his teeth as his cheeks burned with the stains of tears. "You never wanted any of that. You only laughed as you killed all those people, as you forced me to look on their dead carcasses! You enjoyed it, you fucking bastard!!!"

"Nobody in this world is going to be strong for you!" roared Yoshiki, his fist splintering the top of his desk as he thundered to his feet. "If you want something here, you have to take it yourself. That's something everybody has to learn, whether or not they suffer the hardships of poverty, regardless of how perverse of a world they live in. I do what I do because the weak have no place in this world and I have no intention of joining the dead. I taught you all the things I did so you would find your place here as well, so you could live out your life comfortably as ease. And this how you repay my consideration? With the same scorn you showed me years ago?"

"No... no, that's... you're..."

Fumiya's vision became clouded by the tears now, his body heaving heavily as all of his pent-up anger poured out in salty drops of helplessness across his face. He wanted so badly to tear up this false image in front of him, to scream and holler and shred it into pieces so he would never have to listen to it ever again. And yet, he could not, his hands pinned so powerlessly away from his object of hatred, so he cried his heart out as his wrists continued to cry their boiling streams of red tears, his chest rising heavily with despondent desire.

He didn't want to be here, he didn't want to face this. But it wasn't because of how horrible he believed his father to be. Rather, it was because he knew that he was already staring at the truth.

Sometimes, everything his father said felt so sincere, as if he really was the person who was looking after his son. Sometimes, he felt as though he himself was the one who was wrong, as if his defiance was one of those natural things that came from a youth trying to break away from the limitations of their root and this game was only a mere argument that would soon be one of those things laughed at in the future. It was because deep inside, he knew that everything his father said was true, that he was only the child hopelessly fending off the facts in a futile attempt to still prove that he was right even though the fault lay right before his very eyes. He knew now that the real world was something horrible and sadistic, that if he had not seen so many evil tragedies in his youth that he surely would have perished before his plans of revenge even met any kind of maturity. He knew through experience just how screwed up the rest of society was, both the people with money and people without. He knew deep in his heart that he did indeed live in a horrible world and that he was made strong off of its people’s pain.

But he also knew it only hid the terrible monster within, covering his father in his own shadow until the seething light of suspicion harmlessly passed by the opening of its lair. He knew that no matter how much rhetoric the man spewed forth from his mouth, there was still something that was there, proving his father wrong. But he could never see it, could never quite touch it, and that was what had always made his battles against his parent so hollowly frustrating.

It was there, waiting for him... just beyond the fog...

"You don't have to be afraid to cry in front of me," said Yoshiki, his voice softening just a bit as he rested against the broken furniture. "I've always been here to---"

"SHUT UP!!!" screamed Fumiya, baring his teeth as his bloodshot eyes pierced daggers towards his father, refusing to show his weakness to this horrible creature. "You say so many things, but do you really mean any of it? Did you ever really care about what I thought, about what I really wanted? Or was it just enough that you molded me into your image of the perfect son so that I would be your successor to this empire built on the basest, most appalling human greed that ever existed on the face of the earth? You're right, this IS a horrible world, but how does that exclude you in any way? You, who cannot even keep your word, who--- despite acting as if he knows everything--- is the continuous hypocrite. You're everything that they are and worse because you never even looked at me. You didn't give one fucking damn about what I thought!!!"

"You still don't get it," said the gangster, shaking his head. "Maybe you don't realize it, but the only reason you were able to endure the outside world after you ran away was because of me. Would your life be worth anything if you were dead? Would your foolish claims have so much strength then? You didn't even know what was out there until I showed you, until I gave you that gift of reality that you used to make something for yourself! I did what was best for you because you wouldn't have known any better until it was too late."

"The only thing you ever did for me was give me was this damn sickness!" spat out Fumiya, still forcing his body to resist the heat of fever. "I don't know where that fits into your sick idea of compassion towards one's child, but I think it just shows what you really mean behind all your elaborate claims!"

For just a second, the gangster honestly cocked his head to one side as his uncanny ability to easily shoot off a retort suddenly left his lips. It was the first time Fumiya had ever seen his father at a loss for words, however brief the moment was.

"Sickness?" questioned Yoshiki, his undecipherable face looking as if he really did have no idea what he was referring to. "I have no idea what you're talking about, but I certainly gave you nothing of the sort."

"Don't lie to me!!!" shouted Fumiya, remnants of purple raced along his arms as he struggled to hold on to his sanity. "It was your man who injected that crap into my body in the first place! It was your fault that I go insane with these goddamn flames! Do you know what it's been like trying to live out my life like this when the rest of the world would rather bite my head off than offer me a helping hand? I can't live a normal life anymore, you took that away from me! All this time you talk about looking out for my best interests, that all that shit you did in the past was for my benefit. And then you turn around and castrate me against that very thing you're 'teaching' me to face! Everything you say means nothing. You're just another person looking out for your own best interests! You don't give a fuck about what happens to me!!!"

"Your flames?" repeated Yoshiki, his eyes abruptly lighting up with interest as he began to understand what his son was talking about. Slowly, his mouth cracked open in a smile, his chest heaving with the humor that rose within. And as the mercenary watched in confused rage, his father slowly broke into laughter, his powerful voice filling the room with peals of amusement. "Your flames!" he boomed, a hideous smile covering his face. "You mean, like these?"

Fumiya's mouth only hung open in surprise as he watched his father draw forth a massive hand before him, his kin's appendage suddenly erupting in brilliant white fire that illuminated the darkness as easily as the sun.

"You... why?" whispered Fumiya, his eyes refusing to believe what he saw before him. His silence seemed to last hours instead of seconds as he watched the strong fire dance in the palm of his father's outstretched hand. "How did you...?"

"This is not an affliction you refer to," said the gangster as his eyes narrowed, a curt smile still on his face. The ease with which the satisfaction seemed to ooze over his features only made Fumiya's skin shiver with dread, and he knew that he would not like what the man had to say next. "But rather, it is a gift from God."

"A gift?" said the mercenary, his mouth twisting in disgust as a foreboding storm rose high above to extinguish his once blazing fire.

Yoshiki suddenly closed the distance between them with his long confident strides, his fingers reaching up to clutch his son's helpless form by the chin and tilt his gaze up into his own.

"A gift," he said, the tips of his words echoing throughout the cold chamber. He suddenly released Fumiya and turned back to his desk with arms spread wide, the chained prisoner abruptly gasping for breath as he realized that he had neglected the act of breathing in his father's freezing grip. "We are different from the rest of humanity, my son, a sign that a majestic change is about to begin for the future of this world!" said the gangster grandly as he leaned back on the front of the desk and faced the mercenary once again. "How long has man graced this planet? For how many millennia has he raped her of life, of flora and fauna? We have been at war with one another since the dawn of time, fighting for a pointless status of supremacy if only to satisfy our own foolish egos. And while many have preached ideals in which we should make peace and find ways to live in harmony, ambition has always won out over that simple solution of placid, boring order. Logically, we should have all killed ourselves already, but something had gone wrong along the way. Somehow, we've survived for thousands upon thousands of years, continuing to destroy and hate and kill until this present day when it’s rare to find even the most minute form of life on this planet other than our own greedy selves. Synthetics and artificial substances have replaced those needs from natural sources, and every day we fill ourselves and one another with more and more poison from our own hands. And still, we continue to live and sterilize this land with our cancer."

His eyes lit up as he grinned his horrible grin, his arm rising up before him and closing in a tight fist as though he were grasping the planet for himself. "But historically, no matter how strong a predator may become, no matter how dominant and destructive he may grow, nature has always managed to bring forth a new breed of animal to balance the scales in equanimity. We were granted a special power, Fumiya, the power to succeed our ancestors in a glory that will carve out the next chapter for this earth before its final twilight has eclipsed humanity." His fingers opened wide now, a flower of ivory flame leaping out in a beautiful holocaust of destruction. "Fully and naturally has this ability come to our bodies, not engineered by yet another attempt of our brothers and sisters to enhance our strength through the manipulation of our flesh and bone, but rather as a sign of change that we must seize with full confidence the path it will lead us. We have been chosen to sire the next generation and eliminate the old one. We are the successors to the human race."

Fumiya's hands no longer clenched so tightly, his resistance no longer pulling against his chains quite as hard as it had before. Even though the room lacked nothing in terms of warmth, his body continued to shiver as if he had been stripped of his clothes and bathed in the purest of snow. He wanted to deny everything he had just heard so badly, to bury it beneath those illusions that he wanted to believe in instead. But even he could see the truth behind his father's eyes, far beyond those pools of swirling ecstasy, things that shone too brightly of desire and pride to be anything false. It hurt him to feel that taint soak into his body, that he could no longer deny this fever that had plagued him for so long.

"I inherited this... from you?" his cracked voice managed to spit out. Yoshiki only nodded, patiently waiting for his son to accept the nature of his being. "But... then what did your soldier shoot me with? I didn't start experiencing the flames until after that day, so why go to all that trouble to shoot me with your drug if this thing in me was inevitable anyways?"

"It was only a precaution I had to take," said the gangster without breaking stride. "The day you left, you had still not shown signs of the flames of which I expected you to inherit. I myself had no idea when to expect them to mature, for the gift emerged in my body much later in life than at the age you ran away. Still, it would all mean little if I had miscalculated my estimations, and so I ordered my men to inject you with a special drug meant to withhold your fire until a later time, something engineered upon my further research of our power. Originally, its purpose was to keep your ability hidden from the public long enough for you to be reunited with me, but it must have worn down over the years from the sheer duration of age. Even though you talk of this as if it were a sickness, I'm sure what you have been experiencing was only the natural resistance of your body against the dying medication. If nothing else, it means that soon the chemicals will have drained themselves from your system completely and you'll be able to live up to your full, unrivaled potential."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" said Fumiya, his anger weakly sinking back into his voice. "If this pain I have is what you say it is, then you drugged me to destroy my so-called 'talent' when it might have naturally matured in my body? You sought to weaken me just for your own sick purposes?"

Surprisingly enough, his father's eyes seemed to darken at the resentment, his body tensing at the sound of his objection.

"And yet you continue to act as though this were a world of justice we lived in," he said coldly. "Really, what have humans beings been doing for centuries to the things that they feared, to the things that were 'different?' What have they continued to do even now, when people in power desperately repress the masses for fear of what they would do if they possessed the same force they did? This sense of fear is something natural that permeates human nature, the very thing that drives him to paranoia, to hatred, to the slaughter of himself and his own species. If man once feared himself for possessing skin of a different color, going as far as to hunt him down and hang the life from his body, what would he think of his brothers who possessed the ability to wield the cleansing fires of heaven? If such simple, paltry differences were enough to justify murder, then would our ability warrant the waging of war?"

Yoshiki silently fumed as he paced about his desk, finally settling down in his deep, revolving chair with a heavy sigh. "If they knew, they would kill us. They would string us up and drain the blood from our bodies, showing the remains of our weakened, frail bodies to the rest of humanity in some inane attempt to re-instill the strength of mankind back in their delicate, fragile minds. That's how 'strong' the human spirit really is. It's only real potency coming from the derivation of malignity, and even I cannot fight the whole planet on my own, so I have taken great care to hide my ability from the prying eyes of the general public. Within this household, only Seth knows of the flames, the only one of my servants I dare trust with the secret. As for anybody else who had been unfortunate enough to come across the secret, I've dealt with them properly to keep that particular puzzle forever shrouded in question. So for your sake, I have done the same, making sure that you could stay within the favor of society's prejudiced eyes until you were strong enough to wreck the vengeance on their foolish beliefs that they so rightly deserve."

"For my sake..." said Fumiya helplessly. For him, all for him, his father had killed and destroyed, all so he could carve out the perfect world for his precious son. Was such a globe pieced together from the flesh and bones of others worth possessing? Was such a thing worth enjoying, reaping joy at the cost of another's suffering? A part of him understood the way his parent thought, understood every bit of logic behind his thinking, his plans, his ambitions. And truthfully, a part of him found it honest and real, reflecting a society that had indeed gone mad with the worst byproducts of human fear, something that really wasn't worth treasuring or protecting. Upon this horrible earth existed a plague called mankind who destroyed without prejudice, who selfishly consumed everything in its path like a voracious beast that had no sense of conscience or justice. To free the dying planet of its sickness would only serve to help rekindle a rebirth.

Yet, a part of him continued to resist. A part of him continued to distance himself from everything Yoshiki spat forth, somehow, inherently knowing that it was not the right thing to do, somehow knowing that that was not what he himself wanted to do. And Fumiya could not understand why he felt that way.

"Why...?" he whispered softly, closing his eyes as the wet salt stung his vision. Why couldn't he believe it? Why couldn't he simply make that peace that he so desired, whether he sided with his father or simply rejected him? It should have been an easy decision, something he should have conjured an answer for in seconds. And yet, he found himself pulled in both directions, unsure of what to do, unsure of what to think, unsure of what to say.

"Okaasan..."

... no.

It was something his father had said.

That was what was holding him back.

'As for anybody else who had been unfortunate enough to come across the secret, I've dealt with them properly to keep that particular puzzle forever shrouded in question.'

Anybody...?

Even...

... there had been a single day long ago in which he had suddenly begun to remember every single detail from every single hour that passed. There had existed a moment somewhere in the depths of his father's mansion in which life suddenly stopped and everything he began to see from that point onward was saturated with unrivaled malice. From that day on, he had lost his childhood, replaced by a dim, gritty image of what reality was supposed to be. He had lost something then, something that had still let him see through those child eyes, something that still believed in the existence of innocence.

There had been a day when everything he had been taught had been replaced by his father's sadistic routine, when his happiness had been raped from his body and trampled beneath a sheet of truth. The man had become the only family he had ever known, ever saw, ever hated.

So whatever happened to his mother...?

She existed. She had been there in his childhood, holding him close, protecting him with her warmth. He vaguely remembered her touch, remembered when she would cradle him to sleep, remembered the soft light of the moon as it shone down upon his face. Somewhere in his early years, she had been his angel, shielding him from harm, letting him indulge in the simple things of children without feeling the harsh responsibility of being an adult.

And one day, she had simply disappeared.
And he had been alone ever since.

And even though now he was surrounded by the cruelest horrors for any single person to have to witness, there was always a part of him yearning for that time of simple gullibility once again, refusing to let him be completely corrupted by the animosity of mortals.

At that time there still existed something he couldn't let go of. Something he would never let go of.

Or was it something that would not let go of him?

"Mother..." seethed Fumiya, forcing himself to open his eyes, forcing himself to stare at his horrible originator. To stare at someone who had no heart, no compassion, who had learned to grow up by way of logic, not commiseration. Here was someone who held no leniency towards anyone, who did as only he saw fit, whose sense of equity was twisted by the crooked rules of an unfair race of creatures. Here was someone who he had always hated as a father, who he could never understand why he had ever been married to such a merciful, understanding person.

"You killed her, didn't you?"

Depravation. Want. Envy. Jealousy. Hate.

Finally, he heard the opera music once again, deprived of his mother's touch, the room feeling so very cold. He had been so young, his mind still malleable by those around him through his own purity. And yet, even he knew that there had been something wrong, that night she had left to go trouble Yoshiki for a simple blanket, so late at night. He knew that she would never come back to him. That was when the nightmare had begun.

"You killed her!!!"

And all Yoshiki could do was sigh and shrug his shoulders in his cold, distant manner, his stone face never showing any care, never showing that he even regretted those things he did in the past.

"I told her not to visit me in my study when the doors were closed," he whispered softly, his voice--- despite its gentle touch--- still holding a lethal dose of sadistic venom. "But she did not heed my words." He sighed and closed his eyes solemnly, recalling those memories of his past. "She saw the flames, Fumiya. She saw the flames." And he crossed his legs casually, as if it were nothing, as if he were only discussing the exchange of monetary values that constituted his daily business. "That was all."

"What did you do to her?!" screamed Fumiya, his body burning brightly now, the rug beneath his feet turning black as the purple flames burned them to dust.

"Regardless of what you may think, she was still human," said the gangster callously. "She was no different than any of them out there, no different from their fears, from their hatred, from anything they have ever believed in. And thus, she would have turned on us just as easily, just as willingly, and just as eagerly, all for the sake of retaining the superiority of their race. You were young, so I thought that her absence would not be noticed." He snickered in a manner that only made the mercenary's blood turn hotter, reaching forth into the depths of his fury for a violence insatiated. "Think of what could have happened if she had been left alive. Think of that and wonder if you would even have the opportunity to live to this very day! You are my son, my heir, the one who has been chosen to hold this gift from God by my side. It was for your sake that she died. You can honor her in that respect if you do so wish."

'For my sake...'

Reality suddenly disappeared as the world turned red and Fumiya lost all perception of time and space, his mouth splitting open in a bloodcurdling scream. His head pounded as the blood in his limbs burned with hatred, and suddenly nothing else mattered except for getting his hands about Yoshiki's neck and tearing his throat out in a majestic geyser of crimson beauty. He was tired of being surrounded by pain. Tired of being connected to more and more malevolent antipathy, coming across a new piece to add to his puzzle with each passing second of his life. He was tired in trying to deal with everything in 'human' terms, in reason and words, when everybody else refused to adhere themselves to that code of arms. And here he was, confronted by the man who had destroyed his life so easily and uncaringly, goading him with politics and games, with power and duty, with things he neither wanted nor cared for. So if the fool would not listen to simple words, then let him hear something a beast like him would understand. Let him taste violence and hate, and let him drown in the sorrow of his own persona before his true suffering would truly begin.

The shrill creaking of his bonds abruptly escalated into a shriek of tearing metal and the chains that had held him back only seconds before now flew free in the air, bits of concrete raining down to the carpet as the flaying material broke free from their anchor. The fog was clear, but in its place blew forth an inferno of purple flame, the deepest madness of the mercenary finally rising from deep within his gut to claim what it so deeply needed. What it so deeply desired.

The amusement on Yoshiki's face broke when he realized that his son was free and charging towards him with the speed and force of a freight train, but Fumiya didn't even stop to care. White noise filled his head as his mouth opened up to scream and shout like an animal, his clawed hands drawing forth wave after wave of the corrupted fire and bringing them down on the gangster with every intention of burning every inch of his body into ash before it even hit the ground. The room seemed to glow with the conflagration, completely swallowed by the fearsome weapon that he had never had the knowledge nor desire to use until now. As the searing heat claimed every object in the chamber for its consumption, Fumiya only found himself lost deeper in his own ecstasy, drawn further and further into the maze of lies, determined to break down every wall himself to see the prize that he was being deprived of at the end of the dark tunnel. If he stopped for even a second, then the ocean of lies would only sweep him away once again, carrying him back to the realm of man to live out the rest of his life amongst their miserable brethren, caged as a heretic within their society of hypocrites. In that world, there was no place for someone like him, for someone who had no desire to live by their rules and their games. For him, such a life would only equate his own personal hell, somewhere where everything he said and did was ruled by deception, falsity, and to break that mold would be to label himself a dissenter within their ranks. Once already he had fallen to those rules, swaying the brave and poor in an attempt to fell his father when they truly believed that what they did was for the sake of restoring strength to the masses of destitute and impoverished. Once already he had let himself be eaten alive by that selfish desire, let himself hurt others so needlessly as his father had before him. But after that, he had vowed to change. He had vowed to follow his path alone, to be that true person that he was inside. And because no one would listen to his word of communication that so desperately pleaded for peace, he roared now. He cried and howled like a primal animal as he filled his father's room with the flames of his determinated passion, because that was his most sincere cry to the world.

Because that was his true self inside...

Fumiya's dilated eyes suddenly widened in surprise as his walls of fury were abruptly parted by a single vertical sliver of white fire that sliced through the poison like a beam of shining light, the fearsome blade tearing through the mercenary's body in a diagonal slash from his shoulder to his waist before burying itself in the opposite wall in an enormous crater. Dark blood erupted from the wound as Fumiya fell to his knees, the nearly fatal injury draining his short-lived furor as quickly as his sea of flames burned out into withering trails of smoke that lent their acidic scent of furnished wood and metal to his nostrils. His bloodshot eyes struggled to grasp that rapture once again, but he already knew that his body was far too weak to reach that insanity a second time. And so his eyes merely sought out his attacker instead, spinning their daggers of hate in dissension until the very end. So easily had his resistance been put down. So swiftly had his hand been doused by a single attack. But his no matter what Yoshiki did, he could never satisfy his own anger. Even with death, at least that part of him would grow and grow until its voice was the only one the rest of the world would ever hear.

"You always have to play with your heart and never with reason, don't you?" said Yoshiki as he calmly walked towards the downed mercenary, his hand still glowing with the remnants of his white fire. "I've tried for years to make you see truth, but perhaps I had made an error in thinking I could ever change your ideology. Perhaps you were meant for some different life, not the one that you were presented with, and certainly not the one that I was raising you to live in." He snickered disdainfully as he turned away, straightening the edges of his still pristine coat as he turned to leave the room. The floor was already thundering with the heavy boots of his soldiers, their orders to relieve their boss' office of his violent guest given before the mercenary had even had a chance to fulfill his vicious intentions. "However, realize that your opposition to my plans only means that you have willfully marked yourself as my enemy. And my son or not, if your only intention is to make attempts on my life, then I'm afraid that your disposal would not only be in my best interests, but it would also keep the amount of suffering I inflict upon your being to a low minimum." The heavy twin doors of the gangster's chambers opened as Yoshiki made his leave, dozens of armed minions approaching just beyond the departing man to detain the fallen mercenary.

"I'm sorry, Fumiya. But we live in a world ruled by logic. Understand my decision under those conditions and perhaps you will finally realize that we cannot always go through life with unattainable dreams."

But Fumiya never let his eyes loose their hatred, seeking out Yoshiki long after he had left the room, wanting only to find that light promised to him so long ago by an angel long forgotten.

...

...

...

...

...

The music abruptly crescendoed, the simple notes falling faster and faster as heavy substance was added to the once light tune of the piano. The tempo began to quicken as chaos began to ensue, and suddenly the once beautiful melody had turned into a cacophony of noise. The blaring discord rose in the wind and set the sky on fire, dipping the landscape in red and tainting the air with the taste of bitter copper. Just when it seemed as if it would never end, the notes suddenly stopped, filling the once saturated air with nothing but silence. The only remainder of the mighty clash was the lingering scent of death that hung in the breeze.

And now, let your horrible nightmare begin...

...

...

...

...

...

Edge sleepily opened his eyes, stirred from his rest by a familiar yet foreign warmth across his breast. When his gaze finally adjusted to the darkness, he found himself in the same small bedroom in which he had first awoken in this unfamiliar land, tucked comfortably beneath the covers of his own bed. Beside him, Yu-Lan slept soundly, her soft breathing tickling his ear as she shifted her body in response to his unexpected awakening. As she wrapped her arm around his chest, he silently entwined his fingers in hers and gave a soft squeeze. It was a wonderful feeling. So rarely had he ever felt anything like this in his life. So rarely had he ever felt such warmth, such compassion, and such peace. It was something so dear that he wanted to cherish it forever, never leaving the newfound comfort of his bed and wife in this life that lent him such happiness, void of every horror he had ever experienced in his past existence. If only this feeling would last forever...

Gently sliding out from the sheets so as not to disturb Yu-Lan's peaceful rest, he lightly clothed himself against the outside chill and slipped outside for a walk. The concept of sleep was such a foreign concept to him that he didn't even notice when his wife had guided his exhausted body to bed to rest, helping him bathe and clean, and finally nuzzling into bed beside him as he quickly fell into slumber. Usually, he was comfortable letting his recharge battery absorb solar energy on the fly or using the friction of the motions he executed to create power that he could keep in his reserves. Now, with the introduction of this habit of sleep that he had so often seen Yoshime and Iesu commit themselves to in set intervals throughout the day, he was still not adjusted to the times that humans dedicated to such an activity. Yet, it felt good to wake up refreshed and walk out under the cold night sky, feeling the soft breeze against his bare flesh. It felt good to feel the grass tickle his ankles as he walked amongst the tall, lush meadow, feeling bits of moisture fall off and cling to his ankles. It was breathtaking to look up at a full moon not with a vision of statistics and measurements, but rather with simple human vision that calculated the picture only in beauty.

"I still don't know what this place is," he said to himself quietly. It felt like such an unimaginable dream, this fantasy that was everything he could ever desire, taking him away from his world of war and giving him a normal human life. A life where he could feel everything he ever wanted. A life where he had everything he ever wanted. A life with the endless possibilities of making his dreams come true. It was too good to be real, wasn't it? And yet here he stood in this wonderful place with things he would have never have in his previous life.

His... previous life...

The young boy’s smile slowly stiffened as he began to seriously consider what he had left behind. What was he doing? What was he thinking? There were things back there that needed him, people that needed him. He had left on the eve of failure when they had been lured deep into the realm of the gangster, Yoshiki Sang-Wu, and faced defeat at the hands of his malicious trap. He had been fighting, for his friends, for their journey… for Yoshime. And it was suddenly all taken away from him.

At first, his reaction was to retract from this new place and find some way to return to the aid of his companions, his body actually jerking forward instinctively as if running off into the distant fields would somehow bring him closer to the past. However, when he paused to seriously consider the situation, was that thing worth worrying about? Was such a world worth worrying about, where humans so easily destroyed one another without remorse, where bloodshed was nothing but a normality, and where the concept of life was not precious but rather rare? They had fought long and hard, overcoming dozens of adversities, winning hopeless battles against soldiers, cyborgs, and even angels of death. But what did it do for the world except prolong an inevitable destruction? What great impact had they had on bringing their planet and its people any closer to the salvation and reconstruction that seemed to far off in the distance? He wanted to try to be optimistic, to say that they did make a difference, to convince himself that what they did had indeed had a powerful impact on bringing them closer to some sort of rebirth. But there was a voice inside him that spoke a different truth. No matter what they had done, they were still only mortals created upon a playing field, limited by their fatality and their passions. How much of a difference could nine people make in such a place? An earth tainted deep in hatred and self-degradation, a society that understood such concepts not as vice but rather as a mechanism essential to maintaining their petty existences? Even they could not turn a reality gone so madly insane. It simply was not possible. Maybe his fight had been futile all along.

Maybe his flight from hell had been the only real way to find the things he was looking for.

"Was it even real... that vision?" he said quietly, searching the dark blue sky for his memories. What if what he was experiencing right now was not a mere illusion, but rather his true substance? What if his past suffering was a nightmare that he had just waken up from, back into his real life and real family? He had seen much by Yoshime's side, but it was no more real than Yu-Lan's delicious cooking and Sanjuroh's constant call for attention. Angels and devils, a fearsome general mysteriously bent on killing him, a cross-bearing young boy, and a being constructed from pure information trapped in the robot body of a child. Some of those things were bizarre fantasies pulled straight from fairy tails. Others were anomalies that he couldn't even begin to understand. But surely he had felt pain at their hands. Surely he had felt them bite and cut his flesh, attempting to devour every inch of his being with their teeth and claws. It was not something he regretted leaving behind.

"Can such a horrible place even exist...?"

Yet, he had felt joy there too. Certainly not in the sheer amount he had experienced in his new life, but short, poignant moments of solace and peace among friends, among people who really cared about him. That had kept him sane within the midst of the chaos, dragging him clear of the fires of ecstasy. But what made that any more genuine than this? Or vice versa? With every passing moment it was becoming harder and harder to tell if he was living the life of an experimental government dissident named Edge or a simple farmer named Shizuru. He knew each was important, yet he leaned towards this new existence if only because it was void of his past troubles, bringing happiness to him willingly and easy. He wanted to believe that thing, and it somewhat frightened him to think that he could discard his other persona so easily. But could he truly see which one was real? Could he really be sure that what he had left behind was even tangible enough to bother considering?

Edge sighed as he stared out into the dark sky, searching for some kind of truth that he hoped would show him where to go. But his heart hung deep in blackness, surrounded by confusion and swirling delusion. He had two paths to choose from, and the one he stood on right now took him straight to his supposed bliss. Yet, the other continued to tug at him strongly, bound not by the fruits of success, but rather by...

by...

A sudden noise in the distance diverted his attention, and he turned his head to peer out towards the nearby town where so many friendly neighbors resided. Amongst the low roofs and soft glow of the midnight market came forth a red hue that shimmered within the midst of the buildings. He softly smiled to himself as he watched and heard excited noises drift to his ears, knowing that those people had found their own solace in this place. Here, they celebrated their euphoria, rising high on its warm passion and riding it up into the sky to a place where the human eye could not see. They had found their place in life in this quiet town, something that he himself had spent his entire existence searching for. Maybe all he needed to do was follow their example and explore his opportunities for himself. After all, the only thing he had ever really known previously was how to fight. He had never really had a chance to reach out and grasp those things that he truly dreamed about, that he truly desired, for every waking moment was consumed with a constant battle for sheer survival. Now things were different. Now, perhaps, he should begin changing the way he looked at his mortality... and himself.

He watched the beautiful glow with a smile, feeling comfortable for the first time in a long while. He had never realized how long it had been since he had stopped to simply look at his surroundings. But now that he did, he found himself realizing the precious nature of time and how he spent it, and that made him appreciate what he saw all the better.

However, as he watched the scene gleam in the distance with its brilliant luminescence, it slowly grew larger, brighter, until its shining light made him have to cover his eyes with the palm of his hand just to glance at the picture. At first, he was confused, not understanding what such an illusion meant. Was he dreaming? Was this entire deviation from his bedsheets a mere vision that he somehow conjured from the depths of his thoughts? His worries? Yet, no matter how much he wanted to deny it, he knew it was real. Something inside kept screaming for him to take down his useless defenses, to listen to what his instinct told him. It was a voice he heard every time he had stepped into a fight, the voice that told him to turn, to attack, to kill. He hated listening to it even though it was only trying to keep him alive, but it never brought good fortune and he was just becoming used to living at peace. He knew that he couldn't look away though, because if that voice within didn't end up showing him the grim truth, it would only be shoved in his face by a less merciful force...

When he finally opened his ears all the way he found himself hearing not the pleasant celebration of the town's citizens, but rather their shouts of desperation and screams of terror. When he finally took his hand away from above his eyes, he saw that the crimson light had merely risen over the tops roofs, bringing with it a horrific sight that he had seen often enough in his past.

"Fire," he whispered, watching the climbing flames lick and devour the homes and shops like ravenous beasts, leaping from shelter to shelter in their insatiable gluttony. He didn't want to look, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. Those people had lives, lives like the people he tried to save in the world of Akuji. Lives filled with innocence, never committing a crime but killed on the basis of their sole existence. It hurt him to see that the same injustice existed even here, in this place where he thought he could have left all those scars behind. Gradually, the lines between his two realities began to blur, and he once again watched Dollet burning at the hands of Prophet's legions as he looked on in helpless shame. Burning, as nameless faces swung forth their weapons and spilled blood upon the streets in their unholy crusade. Why couldn't that have been different here? Why couldn't he at least have that one wish in this place? That the people who did nothing did not have to bear the burden of his war?

Along the path from the village to his house stumbled a few wary survivors, but sharp projectiles swiftly flew forth from the blazing inferno and cut them down before they could stray more than a few feet from their decimated residences. And as Edge watched in silent fear, rows of horseback soldiers clad in black armor emerged from the destruction, brandishing steel swords and wearing cold helmets upon their heads to obscure their humanity. Slowly, they tread in his direction, like an ominous nightmare that had sensed his lack of anguish and emerged to wreck havoc upon his tranquility. They marched forth, stiffly, methodically, beneath the protection of their dark shields. Nameless faces stepping forth from the pit of despair to bring the taint of war and hate upon the land.

"Who are you?" whispered Edge as he cautiously stepped between his house and the approaching army. His anger rose slowly at first, having been dormant within the serenity of such a calm land. But now it rose up hot and fierce, realizing the danger brought before him and viciously stepping up to defend that which he cared for. "Stay back! Don't come any closer!"

A single man on foot slowly passed through the thick lines, the dark ends of his billowing trenchcoat flying softly in the cold wind as he stepped forward to meet the last of the resistance. He appeared to be wearing little armor save for several glistening plates around his shoulders and collarbone, his body somewhat smaller than that of his iron-clad henchmen, but his stare more than made up for any lack of defense that he might have possessed. Framed beneath long bangs of silver-grey hair that reached down his back in a lengthy ponytail, a youthful face hidden in the shadows housed two burnished orbs of pure fire, flickering every so often with a light that could have only come from the gates of hell, piercing straight into the deepest canyons on the young boy's mind with their horrible blades. It was the look of a man who was familiar with blood and death, who feared very little for he had already experienced more than enough tragedies on his own. It was the look of a cunning officer, a madman, a creature gone completely insane, yet who knew exactly how to direct his ecstasy in ways that made him the perfect killer. He had been bred to face death. It was the same look Edge saw every time he looked into the face of one who possessed the corazon chip.

"Shinnuki-taichou," said one of the horsemen gruffly. "We've combed the entire town from top to bottom, but the sword has not yet been recovered. Do you think the contact could have made a mistake?"

"I don't make mistakes," said the man called Shinnuki, his head half-turning over his shoulder to glance at the soldier. "The villagers may have not known where it is, but we shouldn't expect them to either. They are only common rabble. Besides, we haven't finished this search yet."

Edge froze as the man's stare whipped back to him once again, seeming to taunt him with their judging stare, daring him to embrace the same fate that had consumed the town in a glorious holocaust.

"Sword..." he said slowly, unsure of what to think. "I don't know anything about any sword. You've got the wrong person!" He had to stall for time, think of a plan, anything that would keep them at bay. Right now, the most important thing was to make sure that nothing happened to the people in the house behind him. They were still asleep, safe in their dreams from seeing this destruction laid out across the once peaceful fields. Safe from having to experience this scenario that was all too familiar, this hate, this violence…

And suddenly he wanted to cry. He wanted to cry because he felt so helpless, because he knew that he as one normal human being could do nothing to stop an army if they decided to exert their force on him. A curse as well as a blessing, here he had been deprived of his power, the one thing that he had always been able to rely on before to protect Yoshime and the others in those times of desperate need. Now, he was nothing more than a normal person, as weak and vulnerable as everybody else with only his own courage to hold between him and the bottomless pit of fear. But he refused to back down. He couldn't. If he ran away and let these monsters take away this dream just realized, then maybe he never wanted it bad enough in the first place to truly fight for it. If he let them win, then maybe he really was weak and frail, for he could not even stand up for his own solace. He would not let them have that victory. He would prove to himself that he was better than that.

"Don't play games with us," said a soldier, dismounting and flourishing a fearsome broadsword that was at least three-fourth's his own size. "You know who we are and what we can do---"

"I know nothing!!!"

The man was suddenly cut off as Edge slid directly in front of his face, his body already curled in upon itself in preparation for a strike. Maybe he had lost his ability to manipulate gravity upon his transition to this new land, but that certainly didn't mean that he couldn't fight. Laborious days of training with Kouryuu flooded his memory as he half-faced his opponent with his left leg curled and pointing in the opposite direction, 'Dance of the Half Moon.' His right leg suddenly pivoted his body fully around and brought the heel of his left foot crashing into the side of his enemy's head with the solid sound of a cracking skull through the dented metal, the lifeless corpse flying back into the crowd of the fallen's comrades as Edge steadied himself for the next challenger. His eyes had pushed back all his fear, all his hesitation, and given way to the white glow and instinct that he had grown accustomed to in the heat of battle. Behind him lay his wife and child, more precious to him than anything else he could ever conceive. Behind him lay his reason for fighting, for the people he loved and cared about. This was all he knew and this was all he cared about. If they were to pass him, then they would do it when he was bloodied and dead upon the ground, having spent every last breath of life fighting for this thing that was most precious to him. But no one would ever say that he did not fight his hardest to protect the ones he treasured. Nobody would say that he didn't try his hardest to turn back this tide of war, no matter how daunting or impossible such a task may be. They would remember that he stood there stubbornly, taking on any foe that dared to cross his path regardless of stature or power, for he feared losing his dream far more than he feared his own death.

"Served the fool right," snickered Shinnuki bitterly, glimpsing at the dead member of his legions. He suddenly turned to face his troops, ignoring the man who had just slaughtered his own ally. "This one speaks the truth. He doesn't know anything about the sword. Leave him. He's not worth our time to interrogate."

Edge abruptly cocked his head to one side in confusion as the soldiers seemed to easily accept what their leader had to say and began carving a path around his house and into the fields beyond. In one easy statement this man had completely convinced his troops that Edge knew nothing about their object of search, despite lack of evidence or proof. This was certainly not the logic that he was used to facing from the military. Usually, the presumption of guilt over innocence prevailed if only because it was so much easier for a guilty observer to lie and flee rather than state the facts and accept the consequences. How did they know he wasn't bluffing? That he wasn't telling a lie and hiding this strange sword somewhere in his own house?

The one called Shinnuki lazily spared a glance in his direction, his eyes tearing into his head with their cold cruelty. He couldn't have possibly known on his own. There was absolutely no evidence that this man knew him or his place of residence. Perhaps that was little more than an extraneous detail that he should let go if only for the turn of good fortune, but he couldn't help but feel uneasy about the situation. As the officer's glare drilled through his skull, Edge forced himself to push his doubts aside and accept the outcome. At least he was still alive. At least Yu-Lan and Sanjuroh were still alive. That was the most important...

"Wait," commanded Shinnuki suddenly, and he turned his full body to face Edge, a subtle grin spreading out on his face as his dark-gloved hands flexed their tight digits at his side. "There's someone else in the house." His face grew stolid as he resumed an appearance of one conducting business, the look in his gaze lusting for violence as he marked his new prey. "Fan out and make sure we keep them contained. Perhaps the ones hidden within are the ones we’re searching for."

Edge's face darkened as the soldiers abruptly stopped their march and began to convene in a circle about the entrance of his residence. He could only watch hopelessly as they waved their weapons about, eager to use them for shedding more blood upon the soaked earth. Something was not right here. As soon as he had thought of Yu-Lan and Sanjuroh, this man had completely reversed his decision. Once he had thought of his wife and child, this man had become aware of their presence in the domain and demanded that they be flushed out and searched just as the others had been. It was almost as if the man could see his thoughts, picking apart everything that ran through his head and using the information to his own ends.

"You seem to pick up a bit faster than the other villagers," said the officer, a strange paradox of indifferent amusement playing in his voice as he interrupted Edge's suppositions. "It's too bad you've become aware of my ability. It's not of much use when people know what it is. But you're different, I can sense it. You know how to fight, how to kill. Leaving you alive would be a dangerous error..."

"Ch," cursed Edge as he stared the man down. Shinnuki was reading his mind, toying with him before heading in for the kill. He must have some sort of ability that allowed him to do so, but how? This world didn't even seem to have the level of technological advancement that Akuji had, let alone the implants and cybernetics that might make such a craft possible. So how was he accomplishing such a task?

"You little..." he spat as the ring slowly began to tighten about him. "Don't you dare---"

"Or what would you plan to do to me?" said the officer coldly, tightening his gloves as he walked forward. The dull sound of his boots in the damp grass seemed to resound across the plain as he confidently strode towards the young boy, his men only waiting patiently for their commander to have his enjoyment before they finished the job. Edge tensed as the man continued his approach, unsure of how such an enemy would attack him. Yet, as soon as the officer came within striking range, his body automatically flexed and wheeled his leg back for hard roundhouse to the opponent’s head, timing the strike with expert precision as he braced himself for the inevitable impact.

"Idiot," muttered Shinnuki as his arm shot up, twisting the attack around in midair and using its own momentum to turn Edge sideways, throwing him off balance and forcing him to shift his center of gravity and find a firm base once again. A heavy backfist crashed into his head before he could recover and he abruptly found himself in the midst of a dizzy sensation that teetered between the lines of consciousness. It was his first experience with real, physical pain.

"Even if you do know how to defend yourself, you're just as stubborn as the rest of them," muttered the officer. Edge didn't bother to respond as he spat blood and planted his boot in the ground to steady his flying body, twisting around with a low sweep that managed to catch his opponent in the ankle before sliding his other leg about in a vicious kick at the man's descending head. But Shinnuki merely rolled with the fall, using a kick of his own to harmlessly redirect his attacker's. "You're hardly worth my time," he said disappointedly as he swept up and landed a heavy fist down on Edge's skull. The boy choked desperately as body fluids forced themselves from his body, his opponent grabbing him by the back of the head and smashing his face upon his knee. Blood exploded from Edge's nose and mouth as he fell to the ground and gasped for breath, desperately fighting to stand back up. "From the way you thought, I wondered if I had actually found a challenge amongst these farmers. But I guess you're just another country bumpkin without a clue. Remember, that over-exuberant bravado means nothing if you're dead." With a bitter snicker, the officer gave Edge a swift kick in the ribs before turning towards the entrance of the house. "Rough him up a little if you like," he called to his soldiers dismissively. "I doubt he'll give you much trouble in his current condition. Just don't have too much fun."

"Don't worry, Shinnuki-taichou," said one of the black-clad horsemen, inching forward with his sword held eagerly at his side. "He killed one of our own. We'll make sure he gets what he deserves."

Edge propped himself up weakly as vomit and blood were tightly squeezed from his body onto the soft ground. His eyes burned as he watched the numbers of troops close in on him, goading him, mocking him. His heart clenched with desperation and he sought his enemy in vain, catching a glimpse of the dark officer as he broke the front door with a swift boot and proceeded to make his way inside.

"Yu-Lan!!!" shouted Edge, scrambling to his feet even though even inch of his body burned with pain. As he started to run towards his wife and child, a fierce agony exploded along his back and rudely pulled him away, the stain of metal and the smell of blood filling his quickly vanishing vision. Somebody was saying something somewhere, voices floating through the air hazily in some distant reality. A man stood above him with a blade in his hand, holding him back, spitting out some useless rhetoric to fulfill his own pride. And behind him his comrades goaded him on in their little game of annoyance and taunting harassment. Edge heard none of this. Amongst the sea of pain, he saw only one thing. This man, Shinnuki, had entered his residence to claim something from Yu-Lan and Sanjuroh. A man who had no qualms about killing, about hurting, about destroying. A man who had burned an entire town to ashes even though he had not recovered whatever object it was that he was searching for. All he knew was that he could not allow such a man to touch those he loved. He could not allow it. He would not.

His fist abruptly smashed his abuser in the side of the head, knocking his helmet clear into the crowd of the surprised and awaiting regiment. A clawed hand quickly followed up and grabbed the man by the face, squeezing his temples until a sharp crack indicated an excess of pressure on the soldier's cranium. With a furious roar, he hefted the dead man high above his head and splattered his skull upon the ground, his eyes immediately roving the crowds for a new victim. His head pounded with the sound of blood madly coursing through his body, his hands quivering uncontrollably as they hung loosely by his side.

"You want to fight?" he breathed heavily. None of the soldiers answered, half of them readying their guard for the newly awakened threat, the other half still recovering from having one of their teammates completely gored. "You... you want to inflict your violence and hate on somebody, is that it?" These men stood before him and his perfect world. They were the obstacle that had dropped in between him and his happiness, cruelly depriving him of something he had just learned to enjoy. If there really was a God, did he want him to suffer? Did this higher being wish him only torment and anguish, to forever be drowned in the waters from which death and despair were spawned? Perhaps so, but he wouldn't accept that. Here lie what he desired, and he wouldn't let anyone take it from him. That was what life was about, wasn't it? Fighting for that desire, that wish, that dream?

And so Edge let his eyes show his fury as he crouched over like an animal, baring his teeth as his voice rose in volume until he was screaming at the top of his lungs. "THEN COME AND FIGHT ME!" he roared, giving in to the longing for peace deep within his soul. "I'LL KILL YOU ALL!!!"

The regiment's answering cry deafened every other sound on the bloodstained field, and they rushed forward in a wave of black armor to embrace the horrible beast in their midst. They tried to cut down the wild monster with their steel and fire, but the young boy did not listen to their sense of pain. Even though his knuckles and legs were bruised dark by the force of his strikes--- even spouting forth blood in some places where his flesh broke under the pressure of the blows--- the sound of smashing metal and bones continued to ring out as Edge wildly attacked wave after wave of the tarnished knights. They tried to encircle him, to cut him off from the object of his desire, but the boy would not accept it, cleaving through their numbers towards his simple country house, towards his family, towards the thing he held so dear in his heart.

"SHINNUKI~!!!" he screamed as he ground another victim into the dirt beneath his boot. Three more soldiers moved in to stop him, bearing down on his head with sword and battle axe alike, but he only ducked swiftly to the side before reaching behind and jamming his fingers into the first man's throat, the second and third receiving the resulting momentum of his movements through a swift kick to the face. Tossing the first corpse out of the way, he landed a heavy axe kick down on the head of his other attacker while breaking the neck of the remaining soldier, quickly wheeling back towards his home and sprinting as fast as he could. His limbs burned painfully from fatigue, his head pounding with fire, knowing that the rest of his foes were following his every move with their weapons hungry for blood. But he didn't care. He didn't have time to deal with this fodder when his true object of affection was at stake. As long as he could reach them, it would be all right. He could protect them from these monsters. He would do whatever it took to keep them safe. As long as he could make it in time...

"Please, you're acting pathetic," spat Shinnuki as he abruptly stepped out of the entranceway. Edge halted at the sight before him, his mouth hanging open loosely as a wave of helplessness drained his body of the sudden burst of adrenaline. Loudly protesting in the officer's arms was Yu-Lan, her violent cries slowing to a halt when she saw her husband beaten and bloodied amongst a sea of black-clothed guards. And behind them was Sanjuroh, bound and gagged as he flailed powerlessly over a soldier's shoulder. Even though Edge was still standing at that moment, he began to feel dwarfed by the massive wave of opposition that rose up against him, the churning waters of the furious ocean rising high to crash down and consume their sole enemy down below.

Edge moved forward cautiously to put himself between his loved ones and the danger they faced, but stopped when Shinnuki brought a swift hand up and gripped his wife firmly by her jaw. The man only smiled when he saw the fear in the boy's eyes. He already knew that he wouldn't receive anymore rebellion today. "Even someone like you has things you cherish. Keep that in mind for the next time you choose to do something foolish."

Rough hands suddenly grabbed Edge by his arms and legs, holding him in place as a few of the troops lined up to administer their fists into his head, intent on beating every inch of life out of him before they finally ended his existence with their blades. At first, he protested fiercely, kicking out and injuring as many as he could before they could bind him down. However, the second he saw the look in Shinnuki's eye glow, he forced himself to calm down, forced himself to accept the rain of metal gauntlets as they broke his flesh and made him bleed, forced himself to listen placidly as Yu-Lan cried out above the din of violence. He knew they would hurt her and Sanjuroh if he fought them any more. He knew that these cruel people would have no remorse in destroying these things he had come to cherish so much. But he could do nothing about it. Was that the reality of it all? That human beings were simply barbaric to one another by nature? That no matter how much happiness one could attain on his own, the jealousy of his kin would only bring him back to suffer once again? Was that what all this was supposed to mean...?

"Stop it!!!" screamed Yu-Lan. "He hasn't done anything to you!!!"

However, Shinnuki's response to her futile plea only glazed over Edge's ears as the blows began to knock him away from his grasp on consciousness. Slowly, life started to blur and his head began to fall into darkness, his will to live shattering before his eyes. He was helpless this time, without even the power to fight back. And that was what hurt him most of all.

"Shinnuki-sama, we've found it."

A pause. A shuffling of cloth. Edge struggled to stay awake amongst the quiet storm, and as he opened his eyes as far as they would go he was finally able to watch beyond the chaos as one of the dark knights unwrapped a long metallic object before the cold officer.

"Hmm... looks like these peasants were the one who had the sword all along. Interesting, but no matter. At least now we can finally finish this inane search that Shin sent us out on and concentrate on smashing the last of the rebellion."

Edge sputtered as bile and blood rose up in his throat, a solid fist to his gut forcing the putrid liquid from his mouth. Was that what this was over? A simple bauble? Had he known, he would have handed it over immediately and saved his family this suffering. But it was a thought that came too late to be of any use. Too late... just like everything else he did.

"The Masamune... do you know what this is supposed to bring us?"

"I don't question Shin's orders. I'm only the administrator of his decree. But I'm sure he knows what this thing can do. As long as it makes our job easier in finishing off this war, I'm not prone to argue."

Shin…

Was that the name of the man who started this horrible atrocity? Was that the name of the man who was tearing him apart...?

He heard brisk footsteps approaching him and a soft clank of muffled metal. He didn't even have to open his eyes to know that the officer was now standing over him with his prize in hand, for he could already feel that awful gaze pierce his skull deep in the recesses of his mind. He struggled to stand, to maintain some final sense of dignity before he died. Yet, though the others no longer held him down, he couldn't even raise his head to look his enemy in the eye.

"I suppose you should be thankful, for I think I'll let you live today," said Shinnuki coldly. "If you were any sort of real threat, then you wouldn't be alive to listen to me gloat." He paused, and suddenly he heard Yu-Lan screaming again, her strong voice flowing through his veins and giving him the strength to push himself up to stare at his enemy. The look he received in return was embraced in insanity, bloodshot pinpoints of ecstasy scattered upon a white sea of complete tranquility. "Then again, I suppose you might not be so grateful after all, considering what I plan to do with you. Or rather, with her."

"NO!!!" shouted Edge, forcing himself to stand only to fall back down upon himself moments later, his weakening body unable to support his weight. But in that brief second that he was up, he watched futilely as his wife and child were tied down to horses and taken away from him, the rest of the regiment already departing in their wake. Even though his body screamed for him to stop, to let him heal and rest before he died of exhaustion, his mind wouldn't let him, and he continued to struggle as he forced himself to move in their direction. He felt his fractured shell protest as he dragged himself towards their retreating figures, his hands clawing at the dirt and mud to pull himself towards the ones he loved, but even he knew that there was no way he would be able to save them now. Even he knew that he had just lost the thing that mattered to him the most, and all he could do was watch as it was carried away from his arms. He had been defeated, and even the strength of his willpower would not be enough to bring them back this time.

A brilliant heat bore down on him from above his head, and he weakly stared back up at Shinnuki. Now, they were the only two left, alone in the field with the broken house and the departing soldiers. Unfortunately, he was too tired to care. He was too tired to want mercy anymore, to beg for his life, to ask for another chance. He had already failed with what he was given. Perhaps that had been too much in itself. So he merely watched as the cruel man above pointed a palm in his direction, the ends of his fingertips bursting into a brilliant orange flower of fire to burn him into oblivion.

"It's too bad you weren't a little stronger," snickered Shinnuki. "Maybe in the next life you'll find what you're looking for."

Edge's vision exploded in red, and he couldn't tell if it was the color of the fire or the falling rain of his own blood. No matter what it was, he was too tired to ponder on the meaning of the brilliant explosion, and even as he felt every inch of his body erupt in blistering pain from the magical flame, he laid back and let his mind be consumed by darkness, falling deep into the crevices of his own doubt without anyone to pull him back up.

...

"... you can't die. Not yet. Not yet... Shizuru..."

...

...

...

... why... why am I still here?

... why did you let me live in such a horrible place?

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

End "Ties of Everyone..."