My Me Mine

Nakayama Yuma...the next Edward Cullen

Wed, 01 Jul 2009 03:18:51 GMT

Seriously, Johnny's under-20s are taking over the signs dominating Scramble Kosaten outside the Hachiko Exit of Shibuya station. Not only that...but Nakayama Yuma is apparently the heir of Edward Cullen. They've finally done it and turned a JE boy into a vampire. Honestly, I would ahve imagined it would be Ueda with his tendancy to follow in the ginormously vampire-obsessed footsteps of Gackt. Anyway, I guess JE couldn't resist jumping on the very successful bandwagon that, let's face it, never really trundles off into oblivion anyway. But with a gigantic pink poster right next to the entrance of Sentagai Street, they're seriously pimping this one in all its unabashedly bandwagon glory.

Prayer 1: It's got more plot than Twilight. I admit to devouring the first Twilgiht book with the best of them, but it's not top-notch literature, and there should have NEVER been sequels.

Prayer 2: The graphics are better than the billboard's dubious attempt at adding fangs. I could have photoshopped that at 12...I thought it was something weird on the poster until I read the katakana underneath that said "Vampire Boy".

Prayer 3: ...the theme song is something SUITABLE and not something random that doesn't match but is just used because it's NYBIShadow or NYCboys...(please, god...)

Of course, I'm going to watch it. How can I resist. The pink sign is so...sparkly...

Banner of Kings - Chapter One, Part Two

Sun, 03 May 2009 17:25:21 GMT

Title: Banner of Kings - Chapter One - Part Two
Author: Sakuraeda
Genre: Fantasy AU
This Chapter's Characters: Shoon, Takki, Yabu
Main Characters: Kisumai,. HSJ, Shoon (see complete list here)
Summary: (it's long, sorry)

The tensions between Raiden, Trailyn, and Brevain have never been a secret, but when the Raidenite King Higashiyama mounts a surprise attack on the Brevanian Castle, the solidarity of all three kingdoms and their neighbors threatens to dissolve. Trailyn, bordered on one side by Brevain, can no longer rely on its northern mountain range to protect it from Raidenite invasion, for Brevain is no longer under the control of its people. As Higashiyama plots futher conquest, the Trailynite council convinces an ever-weakening king to close their kingdom's borders to Brevanian refugees, thereby sealing it from possible invasion...or from possible help. But the King is weak, dying, and will not live out the year and the Trailynite council does not like the knot of willful supporters gathering about the heir, Prince Yabu, and do their best to get rid of them in any way possible. Prince's Champion, Shoon Yamashita, is sent to the border with his ragtag unit of misfits, while it is assassination attempts for Councilor Nakamaru.

But Brevain is not ready to bow to their new leader, for there is a rumor running across the countriside that Prince Toshiya escaped the fall of the castle Brevain...a rumor that is true. In grief over his lost family and friends, the prince is determined to get revenge and reclaim his kingdom. Aided by a young Brother-Mage named Tamamori, the Prince makes his way in secret to Trailyn, where he hopes to forge a long-needed alliance with Prince Yabu. But first, he has to get there...

Shoon’s mood had lightened considerably by the time he returned form the stables and climbed the stairs to the prince’s chambers; he was sweaty, dirtier than he had been even after his match with Daijiro, and every muscle ached as it hadn’t since his trainee days, but he was happy. Three new horses and one insane desert pony—exactly what he needed to complete his herd. The pony had taken two hours to run and buck herself into exhaustion, and she still would not behave on a lungeline, but her leg-commands were excellent, and her energy was an asset if properly controlled. She was a perfect match for Kamei.

Shoon finally reached the top of the stairs and turned down the short hallway to the prince’s chambers. He spotted Masuda—the captain of the prince’s personal guard, leaning back against the stone next to his door, chewing on a thick slice of brown bread. He looked totally unprepared to see Shoon and nearly fumbled his bread in shock. Shoon nodded and passed him, opening the door to Prince Yabu’s room.

Unprepared as he often seemed, Shoon knew that Masuda was fully worthy of his post—he could have snapped his sword from the sheath before his snack hit the ground. Knowing the captain, however, he would have killed the attacker, picked up his bread, and finished it before alerting the relay-guard. He was like splinted armor—on the outside, nothing more than a penetrable defense, but lined underneath with bands of steel. Shoon thought that even a Sindar might have had trouble getting through Masuda.

Shoon closed the door and found his friend sitting on the sofa, half reclining against one of the wings, legs shrouded in a damask coverlet. Prince Yabu looked up with an unsurprised smile and closed his book.

“I thought you’d be here before too long,” he said, reaching out to pout tea into an empty cup, which was clearly set aside in the event of company. “How was your day at council?”

Shoon walked to the couch and, conscious of how his grimy clothes would mess up the clean furniture, elected to squat farmer-style next to his liege’s head.

“Wretched,” he said with a grin, accepting the cup. “Just as General Takizawa always described.”

“And my father?”

Shoon winced. The prince was not wasting words, as Shoon had expected, but as he looked up to meet Yabu’s eyes, he found a lie sliding easily into his mind. Your father is stronger than you think—have faith. He’s a good king. And from Shoon, Yabu would believe it…

“A marionette, as we feared,” Shoon said, knowing he could never lie to his prince. Not even to save him pain. “Only a fast, clear argument backed with irrefutable law and precedence can convince him to go against the council on anything. That,” he amended, “ or General Takizawa’s undeniable victory in an argument.”

Yabu nodded, looking grave, and Shoon had no doubt the young man was tucking his every emotion securely away in his mind. The prince sighed, angular eyebrows drawing low over his eyes as he pressed his lips. “Otherwise the council makes the decisions, based on what’s best for…?”

“For themselves, naturally,” Shoon supplied. “And their own fortunes. They certainly aren’t acting according to what’s best for Trailyn.”

Yabu looked up, pinning Shoon with his eyes. “Why? What happened?”

“As you know, last meeting they convinced the king to send General Takizawa to the border to act as a garrison.” Yabu nodded, eyes burning at Shoon to hurry up. “Now, it seems like the council is doing all they can to send me along with him.”

“What?” Yabu barked, panic breaking free of the restraints to paint his face. Shoon held up his hand.

“It’s still undecided. I believe it’s as much an attempt to punish the General as it is to isolate you. The alternative is that I’m elevated to captain prematurely and asked to train my own unit, which they’d likely deploy at first opportunity.”

Yabu relaxed, but only a little.

“Military decisions of deployment are up to General Takizawa.”

“Not when he’s at the border, beyond contact,” Shoon waved his hand. “Anyway, I’m less worried about that. Worse is the decision they’ve come to regarding Brevanian refugees.”

“Dare I venture a guess? They’re not to be slaughtered on sight, are they?”

Shoon favored the thin attempt at humor with a snort. “I think Councilor Nakamaru would have turned purple. No, they have elevted to refuse refugees entry. Not that a political ban will stop anyone who truly wants to come.

Yabu gave a growl of frustration and massaged his face. “What it does is waste manpower in finding them and resources in jailing them, not to mention keep out any legitimate aid. How foolish can the council be? They might as well just hand King Higashiyama the crown on a gold-embroidered pillow.”

“I’m no longer convinced that isn’t their intent, some of them.” Shoon met his prince’s gaze, and the gravity that passed between them convinced the champion that his prince, at least, was taking his duty seriously.

“What of Councilor Nakamaru?” Yabu asked. “Is he to be trusted, as Captain Masuda said?”

Shoon took a sip of tea and considered. “I wouldn’t bring him into the circle just yet,” he said, “but he’s to be observed, possibly protected. He’s speaking against the council on most occasions, and seems to have the kingdom’s best interests in mind.”

“So he is a moderate councilor?”

“He’s the only one who behaves like a councilor at all!” Shoon grumbled. “He’s the only one thinking about the welfare of the kingdom rather than himself.”

“If that’s the case,” Yabu said, “the other councilors must respect and adore him as a valued model.”

“Of course,” Shoon agreed. “They adore him like a knife in the side.”

Yabu laughed a bit humorlessly and shook his head. “With Takizawa goes my most potent ally, and if they send you away as well, I’ve lost my eyes and ears at council. I need someone telling me every move, and if Councilor Nakamaru has any notion whatsoever of true loyalty to the kingdom, he won’t refuse to become my new informant. I’d like to talk to him as soon as possible and get the opinion of someone who knows each man in that room.”

Shoon stared at Yabu’s set expression for a moment before giving in with a sigh. “As you wish. I’ll have Lieutenant Yara speak with him covertly and arrange a meeting, though I still think it’s premature. If this were up to me—”

“But it isn’t,” Yabu interrupted with a grin, and reached out to pinch his friend’s cheek—a boyhood habit that had developed the year he grew taller than Shoon. “Which is why I’m prince and you’re champion.”

“I think you have your reason and result a bit backwards, your highness.”

“You smell of horses,” Yabu complained, changing the subject without preamble. “Get out of my room before the stench takes up residence. You don’t want to make me even more ill, do you?” He pushed shoon, who sat down hard from his crouch and spilled the rest of his tea onto his already dirty boots. Yabu laughed in surprise, and Shoon grumbled at him about wasting tea, though he smiled and rubbed the prince’s back as the laughter elicited a fit of coughing.

“I’d hate to be your cause of death,” the champion said. “Though I suppose if you were to die laughing at me, I’d have less pity.”

A knock at the door interrupted them, though Yabu was still coughing when the visitor entered. It was General Takizawa, accompanied by Yabu’s doctor.

“It sounds like I arrived just on cue,” the old doctor said, bustling to the prince’s side. He produced a vial of golden, slow-moving liquid, which the prince drank in one swallow. The coughing eased, though Shoon still kept his hand protectively on Yabu’s back.

General Takizawa sprawled carelessly into one of the chairs opposite Yabu’s sofa and poured himself tea into Shoon’s empty cup. “So, Sir-saddle-sore,” the man began with a feline smirk. “I hear you drove young Lord Yonemura into the ground like a tent-spike after he spat in your face and asked you which page-buggering Brevanian stallion your mother lifted her skirts for in order to conceive you.” His lips curled up in sadistic glee. “How much of it is true?”

Shoon grunted in frustration, slapping the sniggering prince on the back of the head. “Yonemura was not that colorfully-tongued, and my victory was not quite so dramatic.”

“And the spit?”

“There was spit.”

“You don’t need experience on the front lines of battle!” Takizawa laughed. “Yonemura is already preparing you for it.”

“You approve?” Yabu asked, accusation in his voice. The doctor was checking his neck for swollen glands, muttering and hemming to himself.

“Not in so many words,” the general replied. “but the Daijiro Yonemuras of the world are here to remind us that warriors are not all knights, and knights are not call champions.” He lifted his teacup in salute. “To Sir Shoon-spitface.”

“You’re hilarious,” Shoon scowled.

“I also heard you soothed your saliva-dampened ego by adding to your herd. Four horses? Isn’t that excessive? That puts you at twelve.”

Shoon grinned, though he noticed even Yabu looking at him in surprise. “Only three horses,” he corrected. “The fourth was a pony—one of those feisty desert breeds. And she was a gift.”

Takizawa raised his eyebrows as if to ask, “for whom?”

“My squire. Kamei had no mount and no way to afford one, and whatever the council decides, he’ll need a horse. He’s either coming with the two of us or joining my unit, which everyone already can guess will be cavalry. I want him to have a mount that’s his, that’s trained by us, and that won’t get taken away or changed for any reason.”

The general nodded.

“And the other three?” Yabu prompted.

“Well,” Shoon began, “If I do end up training my own unit, I want each person mounted on a well-trained horse. Many of the knights here have light-weight horses, and I’m looking for mostly-medium weight.”

“So you want to provide your unit with medium-weight horses,” Yabu began, “and you gave your squire a pony?”

Shoon laughed. “She suits him, and with his unconventional fighting style, he’ll need something smaller and more agile. Plus,” he smirked, “she’s a desert breed just like him.” He stretched and stood up, ignoring the bemused looks on his General and Prince’s faces. “I think I’ll go find that bath.”

Banner of Kings - Chapter One

Sun, 19 Apr 2009 12:49:03 GMT

Title: Banner of Kings - Chapter One
Author: Sakuraeda
Genre: Fantasy AU
This Chapter's Characters: Shoon, Takki, Kamei, Daijiro, Gakki, Akun, Fujiie, Taichi
Main Characters: Kisumai,. HSJ, Shoon (see complete list here)
Summary: (it's long, sorry)

The tensions between Raiden, Trailyn, and Brevain have never been a secret, but when the Raidenite King Higashiyama mounts a surprise attack on the Brevanian Castle, the solidarity of all three kingdoms and their neighbors threatens to dissolve. Trailyn, bordered on one side by Brevain, can no longer rely on its northern mountain range to protect it from Raidenite invasion, for Brevain is no longer under the control of its people. As Higashiyama plots futher conquest, the Trailynite council convinces an ever-weakening king to close their kingdom's borders to Brevanian refugees, thereby sealing it from possible invasion...or from possible help. But the King is weak, dying, and will not live out the year and the Trailynite council does not like the knot of willful supporters gathering about the heir, Prince Yabu, and do their best to get rid of them in any way possible. Prince's Champion, Shoon Yamashita, is sent to the border with his ragtag unit of misfits, while it is assassination attempts for Councilor Nakamaru.

But Brevain is not ready to bow to their new leader, for there is a rumor running across the countriside that Prince Toshiya escaped the fall of the castle Brevain...a rumor that is true. In grief over his lost family and friends, the prince is determined to get revenge and reclaim his kingdom. Aided by a young Brother-Mage named Tamamori, the Prince makes his way in secret to Trailyn, where he hopes to forge a long-needed alliance with Prince Yabu. But first, he has to get there...

Banner of Kings

Chapter One

Part I

More wine had passed around the great ring of the discussion table than Shoon would have guessed appropriate, even for such lush drinkers as the king and councilors of Trailyn. Though the war-talk was punctuated with as much goblet-slamming, gods-cursing, lineage-questioning, and beard-stroking as Shoon had been warned, he thought he understood a little better the true reason so many of the men always left red in the face. After the first hour, he had taken in three goblets himself, more out of the fidgety need to be doing something while he could not enter into the discussion than desire for the beverage, but when his vision blurred just looking too quickly from one councilor to another, the young knight declined the page’s offer of a fresh glass.

High General Takizawa sent his former squire a look that turned from inquisitive to amused and subtly gestured to the water-bearing page.

“Majesty,” spoke one of the white bearded counsilors, whom Shoon could not name. “The kingdom simply does not have the supplies to take in Brevanian refugees! Where will they stay? What will they eat? How will they pay for it? These people are our ancient enemies; what is to keep them from overrunning our country and taking it for their own? Will we fling open the castle doors and welcome them here? Madness!”

A rumble of agreement rose from the greater number of gathered men. Shoon was beginning to wonder if he was the only person who disagreed with them when the youngest man at the table besides himself rose to speak: Councilor Nakamaru.

“We have enjoyed several prosperous years of harvest and trade,” he said, ignoring the brown-bearded man on his right, who was glaring as though he might kill him with spears of vision alone. “The kingdom’s coffers and stores would not be irreparably damaged by feeding a fraction of the Brevanian refugees, and this may be our chance to repair the long-standing division.”

Shoon was just taking a sip of his water when Takizawa startled him by rising as well, causing Shoon to dribble a bit of icy liquid down his front. He glanced around, making sure no one had seen, and returned his attention to the General.

“I concur. Also, I’m sure it would not be hard to convince many of the able-bodied men to join our armies—strengthen our borders against similar attacks from Raiden.”

“If we are going to be attacked,” the white-bearded man’s low, honeyed voice intoned, speaking toward the High General as if to a child, “then I would not trust a long-nailed Brevanian to defend me.” A titter trickled through the company. “Either he would flee, or turn his blade against ours! What’s to keep them from falling in rank with Raiden? If our borders are so weak, perhaps it is time for the Prince’s Champion to take on a larger responsibility than sharpening his blade and playing with horses.”

Shoon stiffened, feeling the eyes of the council, as well as the washed out eyes of the King himself, turn to him. It had been scarcely more than a season since he had bested the other young knights and won—to no one’s surprise—the title of Prince’s Champion. He had the feeling that, even had he lost, Prince Kota would have chosen him anyway; the young prince was his best friend, and Shoon could think of no one else he would rather spend his life devoted to serving.

“I see,” Takizawa said, beckoning Shoon to stand. “Are you suggesting, then, that we give him his due as Prince’s Champion?” Takizawa looked at the King, and the legion of bearded councilmen seemed to hold their breath. Takizawa had the unique ability to sway the king’s decisions against the council on military matters. “With your blessing, Majesty, might I elevate your heir’s Champion to the rank of Captain?”

Shoon opened his mouth, about to protest that he hadn’t been a knight for the required five-year service, but the strained look in his former Knight’s jaw made him close it again. He could neither speak for nor against himself in this situation—no matter what he said, the councilors would twist his words.

“He is barely a knight!” said the brown-bearded councilor. “You aren’t suggesting that we break our own tradition and allow a…a child to lead a unit?”

Shoon bristled. Child?

“Why Councilor Idana,” Takizawa smirked. “It was your great uncle’s suggestion that he take on greater responsibility. I can’t think of what else he might have meant than the Prince’s Champion should be made a Captain and begin assembling and training his own unit.”

Counsilor Idana turned his eyes on Shoon. “Well, young Lord Yamashita? Do you feel you are deserving of the rank of Captain? Do you feel you can assemble and train your own unit to defend our kingdom against Raidenite invasion? Surely you would rather follow Takizawa in his unit’s mission to the Braegen Pass.”

The young Champion smiled coolly, understanding clicking into place. Get rid of me, would you, you great slimy bear? I think not.

“I am prepared to do whatever my King and my Prince ask of me,” he replied. “But if we are to come to war, I believe that it will be more important to train new units than it will be to have a few extra swords at the border. Trailyn’s military is strong, and General Takizawa will lead it well, I am sure, without my inexperience to slow him.”

Takizawa nodded. “I agree. I believe this time of need calls for a break in tradition. The Prince’s Champion achieves his rank on the basis of skill, and it is only the pre-existing formality of age that held him back from forming his unit as soon as he was elevated.”

“Seventeen!” growled the white-haired great uncle of Councilor Idana. “The boy is seventeen!”

“Nineteen, actually,” Takizawa corrected, and Shoon nodded, trying to keep annoyance from his face. This was it—the ultimatum. Either he and Takizawa convinced the King to make him a Captain four years early, or he would be exiled to the border along with the General, away from his Prince, who would be at the council’s mercy.

The King glanced back and forth between Councilors Idana and Nakamaru, who was still standing, then at Shoon, and finally at Takizawa. He seemed to shrink—sagging, sweaty face wrinkled with consternation, the illness that had plagued him since his wife’s death fogging him into helplessness.

“We…we shall have to reflect upon this,” the King wheezed.

Next to Shoon, Takizawa’s fists clenched. Deliberation always made it doubly hard for the High General to win his constant battles against the council.

Councilor Nakamaru pressed his generous lips into a flat line, heavy brows drawn, and sat down. He seemed torn, glancing between Shoon and the other councilors.

“This does not solve the problem of Brevanian refugees,” he reminded. “If we are to allow them within our borders, we could form new jo—”

“Long-nostriled buffoon!” shouted Councilor Eran, a steel-haired man who dressed in black and mauve velveteen, despite the summer’s humidity. “We would be forced to interview them one-by-one as they crossed the border, research their crest-tattoos, and make sure none of them were Raidenite spies. It’s simply too much risk! We can’t rely on the pale assurance that these our once-enemies are more angered by the Raiden Bear.”

Nakamaru slammed his fist on the table. “We stand only to re-assure the Brevanian people that Trailyn will never let go of grudge! If we turn our backs and close our gates now, we will never be able to gain Brevain’s tru-”

“There is no Brevain!” Eran shouted, standing and pounding his large hands on the table, leaning out into the open space between, as though the slab of wood were all that was preventing him from charging the young councilor. “Brevain is fallen! It is Raiden now, and it’s people Raidenite.”

Nakamaru mirrored him, leaning hard. “And if Trailyn fell tomorrow, would you call yourself a Raidenite man? Would you forget your—”

“Enough,” the King wheezed, and both standing councilors jerked in surprise, bowed, and sat down. The King coughed, graying black hair sticking to his face a bit as he sipped water from a gilded tankard. “We…we agree with Councilors Eran and Idana. Trailyn will…” he coughed. “…will not succor the people...of its most ancient enemy.”

Shoon’s fists clenched. That decision would cost Trailyn much, and the King had seemed to barely listen to what Councilor Nakamaru and General Takizawa had to say, as if he had already made up his mind beforehand.

Which, if the satisfied smirks gracing the lips of nine out of twelve councilmen were any evidence, he already had.

The Prince’s Champion was not feeling sanguine about his own future.

If the council chamber had been stuffy, then the practice grounds were positively boiling. In the eastern corner of the grounds, Captain Yara was drilling his trainees, whose green jerkins were nearly black with sweat as they practiced ground techniques. In the slight shelter of the armory, Shoon finished lacing the leather corselet and bracers, and stretched out his shoulders and legs, already regretting his decision to wear knee-high boots rather than half-boots—they were much hotter.

He stood straight and moved to the wall roster and checked to see which knights were currently free for sparring. The first name made him wince: Yonemura Daijiro. He passed over it and wrote his name next to the second open slot.

“Ignoring me?” a voice drawled behind him. “What’s the matter, Sir Champion—are you too tired out from council to stand for and real sparring?”

Shoon glanced back over his shoulder at Daijiro, who stood with one hand on his hip, sweat already darkening the collar of his tunic. There was nothing even remotely nice about the expression on his face. Behind him were three other boys, all sons of noble families sent to train at the castle as knights, all—in Shoon’s opinion—unworthy of their shields. As far as Shoon knew, since they were trainees, all Daijiro and his friends did was bully and frighten anyone who got in the way of their antics, a pursuit that Shoon had often interfered with. That, as well as the fact that he and Daijiro had always been the top of their training group, had bred a rivalry that Shoon would have preferred to ignore, but which the other young man had nurtured through their years as Squires and still exploited now that they had both gotten their shields.

“If by ‘real sparring’ you mean that you intend to throw dirt in my face again,” Shoon said, not bothering to turn and face him, “then I’ll have to pass.”

“Ah, I see,” Daijiro’s friend, the slender and handsome Ishigaki said, voice cruelly sarcastic. “He’s right—I’m sure in a ‘real battle’, every Raidenite soldier will stop and introduce himself, present his heraldic colors, and then fight according to the code of chivalry.”

Daijiro laughed. “Our idealistic champion doesn’t know any better,” he said. “His beloved Knight Takizawa has been feeding him honey-cake war-stories where no one dies dishonorably. He leaves out the infantry who are little more than living, breathing barricades—fodder for the lances of the Raidenite cavalry, to wear them out so the ‘heroic’ ones can kill them easier. So, Sir Champion, would you like me to run an obstacle course of pages and squires before you deign to do me the honor of sparring me honorably?”

Shoon clenched his jaw, denying the anger that flared in response to Daijiro’s comments. He knew better than to try to defend his mentor or make excuses for the unavoidable evils of warfare.

“Any page learns to separate the fact from the fantasy,” Shoon said, “and he also learns that another’s lack of honor is no excuse for him to ignore chivalry.”

“‘Protect the weak, defenseless, helpless, and fight for the general welfare of all,’” Daijiro quoted. “Are you saying that you’re weak, defenseless, or helpless?”

“Of course not.”

“Then my so-called roguish tactics aren’t any violation of the code of chivalry. You can thank me in the future for making you prepared for such attacks, Sir Champion. Unless, that is, you’re afraid of getting your porcelain face broken. I’m sure your little desert rat squire will help you lick your wounds, or maybe the great General will give his former squire a bath…”

The large-eyed and equally large-mouthed Fujiie laughed, adding, “he could just go to Prince Kouta’s room to get his ego soothed.”

“Maybe the prince will give him some of his pain elixers,” Ishigaki offered. “I hear they cause hallucinations.”

“That might explain his decision to make Yamashita the Prince’s Champion.”

Shoon, fists clenched hard, did turn around at this. His whole body felt as though it were on fire, anger at their words against his friends smoking away his better judgement. He knew, logically, that this was what Daijiro and his friends wanted, and the fact that they still got under his skin made Shoon even angrier at himself.

“Are you looking for a match, or is it a duel you’re after?” he asked. “You can say what you want about my squire or General Takizawa, but speaking that way of Prince Kouta comes dangerously close to treason.”

They all laughed, though Fujiie and Ishigaki both glanced at Daijiro—neither of them were good enough fighters to last more than a few minutes against the Prince’s Champion, only their chosen leader could even touch him.

“Will you drop the glove, Sir Champion?” Daijiro asked, expression blank, disinterested.

Shoon glared, knowing that this was exactly what his rival wanted, and refused to give in. “I would hate to rob you of what little dignity you may have left,” he sniped. “Especially after the way I thrashed you in the Champion’s trial.”

Daijiro’s face colored a bit, though he covered it with a sneer. “On the contrary, it is an honor to receive your humbling instruction, Sir Champion.”

Shoon smiled coldly, and retrieved a practice sword from the rack on the armory wall, testing its balance before deeming it acceptable. He returned to the roster on the wall, crossed his name off where he had written it next to Daijiro’s third—and largest—companion, Akun Igo. He rewrote it in the slot above, and made his way straight past the other knight and into the bright, dusty practice ground.

“Shall we confine this to a corrals?” Shoon asked, rendering the question rhetorical as he vaulted the waist-high wooden fence that hemmed in the nearest sparring corral without waiting for Daijiro to answer. The sandy-haired man followed him, though his three friends all sank against the fence and laughed amongst themselves. Shoon retrieved a practice heater-shield from the opposite side of the corral and strapped it to his left arm, glancing back to see Daijiro, who must have been baking in his coal gray tunic, doing the same.

Daijiro sauntered out to meet Shoon in the middle of the corral, squinting a bit in the glaring sun, and swept a derisive bow, which the Prince’s Champion returned just as mockingly. They drew their practice-longswords, raised their shields in the stating salute, and began circling.

The sun beat down, and Shoon’s hair curled with sweat against the back of his neck. He watched his rival closely, ignoring two feints, waiting for an attack or opening. Daijiro’s face gave away nothing.

“What are you dawdling for?” Ishigaki called. “You’ll trip over your elder-beards by the time you finish this bout if one of you doesn’t take a cursed gambit!”

“Lock your tongue, ‘Gaki,” Daijiro yelled, but Shoon had already lunged forward, and it took the older knight slightly too long to move away. Their blades connected, slid, and locked at the cross-guard, and Shoon took advantage of Daijiro’s momentary lack of balance to check him hard in the shoulder. The gray-clad man fell, but used the momentum to roll away—an admirable feat whilst holding a shield. Shoon followed, trying to catch him in the vulnerable ground position, but the other knight swept his leg in an arc across the ground between them, kicking up a cloud of dust that masked his recovery.

Shoon retreated a few paces to avoid the rising cloud, knowing how it would get in his eyes and nose, and circled right as Daijiro rose to his feet and lunged.

Shoon deflected the sword, stepping aside neatly, and the other man bypassed him. The Champion attacked, but Daijiro was light on his feet, and pivoted in time to catch the swing on his shield.

By this time, more than just Daijiro’s three lackeys were gathering at the fence to watch. A few of the squires on their way back from practice hooted and leapt onto the fence to watch, taking bets and cheering on both men without regard to favorites. Shoon had no doubt that, by dinnertime, a simple sparring match would be turned into an epic battle complete with trumpets and horses.

Daijiro feigned left, and Shoon mastered the reflex to block, swiveling his hilt forward to deflect the real attack. Daijiro advanced quickly, leading foot crossing Shoon’s, and caught him in the ankle. Shoon swept his shield down, hoping to catch the other man in the shin, but Daijiro rushed forward against the shield, stopping it. Shoon had expected this, and braced easily for it. He looked up to gauge his opponent’s next move, and Daijiro spat in his face.

Shoon jerked his head back, eyes stinging, and drew his sword up automatically into a defensive position as he retreated. A sharp thwack on the side of his knee made him stagger, and he realized that Daijiro had blinded him again. He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his sword hand, blinking rapidly. Several paces away, the other man was smirking.

“Yonemura!” called a familiar, rough voice. “I saw a couple of sheep being led to slaughter this morning! They had your eyes!”

The Champion glanced over and saw a familiar, lanky silhouette join the other squires at the fence—his own squire, Kamei, who was shouting with nothing less than completely devoted bias. Shoon schooled the pleased smile from his face, secretly glad for the support.

Clearly enraged by the squire’s comment Daijiro bull-rushed Shoon, and the Champion purposefully let himself get hit, the older knight’s momentum toppling him backwards, and they both fell. Prepared, Shoon’s booted feet found purchase on his opponent’s thigh and hip, and he shoved with all his strength. The shields made the maneuver awkward, but soon Shoon quickly rolled back onto his feet, though Daijiro was scrambling to untangle himself from his shield.

Shoon attacked, and it was evidence of Daijiro’s skill that, down on one knee, he was able to raise his shield in time to deflect the blow to the right. Shoon pivoted, then drew his own shield back, hooking the back-side of it over the lip of Daijiro’s. He jerked the protection aside, and swung his sword. It clanged against his opponent’s hastily raised weapon, just as he’d expected. Shoon kicked, booted foot catching his opponent in the chest and knocking him back, shield and sword arms open.

The Champion placed the tip of his practice blade on the breast of Daijiro’s armor. “Kill,” he announced, breathing hard.

The other man’s eyebrows were drawn low, mouth twisted in an angry grimace as he knocked the blade aside with his shield. Without another word, Shoon’s rival stood, dusted himself off, and gave another derisive bow.

“Sir Champion,” he growled, and then sauntered off the field as if it had been he who was victorious.

Shoon stared after him, afternoon sunlight glaring down on the back of his neck, and felt a bead of sweat trickle down his spine. Footsteps were thudding behind him, and he turned to see his squire, dark skin and darker hair betraying his desert heritage as he flashed a long-canined grin at Shoon.

“Nice fight,” he said.

“Yonemura’s a brigand,” Shoon growled, letting Kamei take his sword and shield so that he could peel off his gauntlets and scrub the rest of Daijiro’s saliva from his face.

“Yeah,” Kamei said. “But you won’t always be in a fair fight—not when everyone out there is fighting for his life.”

“I know,” Shoon said. “But the way Yonemura behaves off the training field convinces me his actions on it are for spite, and not for the purpose of giving me training for unexpected attacks.”

Kamei shrugged, slinging the shield over his shoulder. “Thought you’d like to know that Lord Taichi brought in some new horseflesh this morning while you were in council—he wants you to look over them. Seemed the think there might be one or two you’d want to buy.”

Shoon felt his mood brighten immediately at the thought of horses. “I might at that,” he said, turning his head toward the stables, which lay past the armory in the northwest corner of the grounds. “If everything goes well—though I’ve no idea whether they will—I’ll be needing a good number of mounts pretty soon.”

“Do you mean to share, or do you mean to torture me with wondering?” Kamei asked, falling into step with the Champion as they walked back in the direction of the armory.

Shoon pressed his lips. “The outcome will affect you directly, so I can’t rightfully keep it to myself. Just know,” he stopped, dust rising and settling over their boots as he looked at Kamei, who was squinting down at him, brow glistening with sweat. “Know that this can’t wander past your lips at all.”

Kamei gave him a wry smile. “Since when have I ever betrayed your confidence?”

Shoon nodded. Then took a breath, and relayed to Kamei the events of the council meeting as far as it directly involved the Champion himself. “As my squire,” he said, “you’ll have to accompany me, whether that’s to the front lines with General Takizawa, or whether that’s here, training my own unit.”

Kamei winced. “I had hoped to receive my shield before you were granted a unit of your own,” he said. Shoon, who had been thinking the same thing, nodded gravely.

They resumed their walk to the armory, cleaned and replaced the practice weapons, noted Shoon’s victory on the roster, and headed toward the stables.

They found Taichi in the paddock, grooming a beautiful palomino mare, who propped up her back hoof daintily as the man scraped out packed dirt and pebbles with a pick. The older man finished his job and caught sight of them as he looked up, and grinned. He dropped the pick back in the brush-box and hobbled towards them with a grin, moving at an admirable pace for a man with one stiff, useless leg.

“Shoon! Just the man I wanted to see. And Kamei—always a delight.” His smile was open and genuine, crinkling the corners of his eyes as he reached out to clasp Shoon’s hand in greeting. “I’ve got two things to ask you—one of them is a favor.”

“Of course,” Shoon laughed. “You know I’ll do it, or find someone who can.”

Taichi raised his eyebrows at Kamei. “I swear I won’t have him rope you into repairing equine-armor again,” he promised. “Actually, this is something I think I can only trust with you, Shoon. As you know well, the General is not much of a horseman.”

Shoon groaned, tilting his head back as if to invoke some heavenly body, dreading what Taichi would ask. Takizawa was a brilliant leader, a brilliant tactician, and a brilliant warrior…but when it came to horses, he was a brilliant failure. Shoon had spent as much time as Takizawa’s squire teaching him horsemanship as the Knight had done teaching him strategy, chivalry, and warfare.

“I’m afraid that poor piece of horseflesh was left in the General’s sole care for far too long—he’s unlearned all the manners you taught him, and most importantly for the General, he’s forgotten all his leg commands.”

Shoon’s mouth dropped open. “All that work! I spent months on that horse…”

Kamei was laughing, and the Champion turned to glare at him. “You’re going to help me retrain him, my little desert squirrel.”

Taichi seemed to relax immensely in relief. “I can retrain everything else, but I needed you for the leg commands. I can’t well do them with this useless thing,” he gestured to his own lame leg.

“What’s the other thing you wanted to ask,” Shoon said, changing the subject from the uncomfortable one of Taichi’s injury. The castle horse-master’s grin brightened his face once again, and he gestured to the paddock on the left side of the stable. “Got a few new horses this morning—there was a whole string of traders from Calerista, and a couple from as far as the desert. I thought you might want to have the first look at them before they’re added to the regular stock.”

Shoon nodded. “I certainly do,” he said, and followed Taichi to the fence. The older man ducked between the top and bottom rungs and Shoon followed suit, conscious of how his own ability to vault over—as he usually would have—might affect the ex-knight’s humor. Taichi gestured to a gray mare, whose four white stockings and dappled rump gave her the appearance of having waded in cream.

“This was one of the two beauties in the herd,” he said. “Her and the one I was grooming, but I’m not letting you have my platinum—she’s all mine.”

Shoon grinned at Taichi and approached the mare from the side. She stopped grazing and lifted her head a bit to look at him, shook her brindled mane, and began walking away from him. “Oh no, girlie,” Shoon said. He followed, swinging out of range of her hind end and around to her shoulder. She dropped her head back to the grass, apparently deeming him unworthy of further attention, and returned to grazing.

The Champion reached out and rested a hand on her sun-warmed flank. She twitched her withers, and he patted them, then slid his hands down her front leg to check the muscle tone. He looked her over, pleased with the way she tolerated everything with only minimal fuss, even when he tugged her head up and checked her teeth and eyes. Her ears were perked forward, showing an even mood, and when he leaned against her middle, she didn’t walk away.

Pleased, he turned to Taichi. “I can definitely say I’ll take this one. She’s got a great temper.”

He wove through the other ten horses Taichi had brought back, selecting two more. Shoon didn’t usually like to take advantage of his family’s wealth, preferring to do as his ancestors had and use it economically, but he allowed himself one luxury—horses. From the time he was old enough to sit, he had been in a saddle, and his horsemanship had been the primary factor that had given him such acclaim in his years as a page, trainee, and squire. Truly, he had spent more time with the horse-master, Taichi, than he had with the Knight he had served as squire.

A loud neigh came from one of the adjacent paddocks and Shoon looked around. A white and chocolate painted pony bucked and kicked in a fit of wild temper, utterly ignoring the man who stood in its center with a directing whip. The young man—one of the stable hands—looked positively out of his wits with her.

“And that,” Taichi said, hobbling up to Shoon with Kamei in tow, “is my wildcard purchase of the day. She’s one of the desert stock, and mad as a sandstorm.”

“She’s just a pony,” Kamei said dismissively, making both Shoon and Taichi laugh.

“Ponies aren’t the docile things stories make them out to be,” Taichi said. “Most of them think they’re the size of draft horses.”

Shoon nodded, moving to the fence and waving the stable-hand over. The young man jogged towards him, seeming glad to be out of the ring. At the far end of it, the white and brown pony had stopped, standing right in the middle of a large puddle, withers twitching, ears flat against her skull.

“I’ll take the pony too,” Shoon said.

“You’re taking that crazy beast?” Kamei said.

“Of course,” Shoon said with a grin. “She’s for you.”

Banner of Kings - Prologue

Wed, 15 Apr 2009 15:16:38 GMT

Title: Banner of Kings - Prologue
Author: Sakuraeda
Genre: Fantasy AU
Main Characters: Kisumai,. HSJ, Shoon (see complete list here)
Summary: (it's long, sorry)

The tensions between Raiden, Trailyn, and Brevain have never been a secret, but when the Raidenite King Higashiyama mounts a surprise attack on the Brevanian Castle, the solidarity of all three kingdoms and their neighbors threatens to dissolve. Trailyn, bordered on one side by Brevain, can no longer rely on its northern mountain range to protect it from Raidenite invasion, for Brevain is no longer under the control of its people. As Higashiyama plots futher conquest, the Trailynite council convinces an ever-weakening king to close their kingdom's borders to Brevanian refugees, thereby sealing it from possible invasion...or from possible help. But the King is weak, dying, and will not live out the year and the Trailynite council does not like the knot of willful supporters gathering about the heir, Prince Yabu, and do their best to get rid of them in any way possible. Prince's Champion, Shoon Yamashita, is sent to the border with his ragtag unit of misfits, while it is assassination attempts for Councilor Nakamaru.

But Brevain is not ready to bow to their new leader, for there is a rumor running across the countriside that Prince Toshiya escaped the fall of the castle Brevain...a rumor that is true. In grief over his lost family and friends, the prince is determined to get revenge and reclaim his kingdom. Aided by a young Brother-Mage named Tamamori, the Prince makes his way in secret to Trailyn, where he hopes to forge a long-needed alliance with Prince Yabu. But first, he has to get there...

PrologueThe Fall of Brevain

The stairs were slick with blood, rivulets of thick red seeping into the mortar between each stone as they flowed like a sluggish river to the crenellations below. Years later, the battlements of Brevain’s high castle would still bear the wine-colored stain. Miyata leapt over a crumpled figure on the steps , noting through his battle-frenzied thoughts that the man wore his own house’s livery. He did not stop to check whether it was someone he knew, for as far as he could tell it wouldn’t matter soon. The castle was lost, and many friends with it.

The carnage on the battlements below stopped his heart in horror. Bodies clad in Brevainian and Raidenite livery sprawled in death, so numerous that the parapets seemed about to buckle and spill them to the yard below. Smoke rose and vanished in the distance, and Miyata’s bones vibrated as, in the courtyard below, the battle roared on. He skipped the last few steps in a great leap, boots splattering in the collecting red, and just barely pitched himself away as a sword came swinging out of nowhere.

Miyata scrambled backwards, treading on the arm of a dead soldier, and drew his longsword, gaze flashing to the oncoming attacker. The armored man came at him fast, bringing his massive broadsword around in a powerful sweep that Miyata caught on his own blade. His arms gave a painful jolt and he felt his braced feet slide back. A thrill of fear shocked down his spine at his opponent’s incredible strength.

The man was massive, and his stained full plate was emblazoned with the mountain and wing crest of a Raiden military commander. Behind the helm, blue eyes glittered with more intent clarity than Miyata had hoped to ever face in combination with such physical power. The man lifted his weapon—a claymore that could probably smash his longsword with a few good blows—and swung it at Miyata’s chest with terrifying dexterity.

“Fancy finding you here all alone,” the man growled as Miyata blocked his advance, losing a few more inches of ground, “Prince Toshiya.”

Miyata didn’t have time to feel the shock of being recognized as the man hurled another attack at him. The swords clashed and the force of it jarred up Miyata’s arms. He gritted his teeth as pain burst in his left shoulder, burning down his arm. The big man advanced, and steel grated over steel until the blades locked at the cross-guards. He forced Miyata back.

“I thought you would be another faceless body in the masses by now,” the commander said, bearing down on the sword. Miyata grunted with the effort of keeping his stance, blood pounding in his ears. “Or pulp under the rubble of the royal wing with the rest of your family.” Miyata’s throat constricted, but he gave no sign of surprise. The man was trying to bait him into rage or panic, to make him clumsy. There was no telling if what he said had any fact to it. “But what luck to find you here!”

The last syllable was punctuated by a shove that sent Miyata sprawling backwards over a knot of corpses. He flailed wide to catch himself, sword scraping the flagstones and sending up sparks. He kept his grip tight on the hilt, struggling for purchase on the uneven terrain of limbs and armor. He felt his own lack of armor keenly. There had been time for nothing but boots and sword-belt over his training garb when the attack had begun, and no time to strip some protective gear from any of the dead.

The man was advancing, and Miyata finally scrambled upright, his left shoulder screaming in agony as he raised his sword in defense. He gritted his teeth and bore the pain, backing away, trying to circle around to a spot where his back was not to the parapet and the long fall to the courtyard beyond. The Raidenite commander’s eyes glittered with mirth under his helm, and he crossed to block Miyata’s path.

The long curtain wall stretched on Miyata’s right, culminating in a bastion and the stair that led down to the guard houses and the inner bailey, which had been his destination. Miyata’s gaze flicked toward it. Could he escape if he ran? Through the tangle of bodies, it would be difficult to move quickly. Somehow, he though the big man was faster than his size let on.

“Run,” the commander suggested. “I will make a sport of hunting you.”

Anger boiled up in Miyata’s veins. “I will not be your game, commander,” he growled. “You will find more to credit in Brevain before you finish this prince!”

“But I will finish him,” the man grinned, “and I will pitch his corpse over the wall for the crows.”

Miyata’s arms were trembling with the effort of holding his sword aloft, and he steeled himself for impact as the man advanced. He let the anger steady him, forcing all worry to the back of his mind. He was not afraid of death.

The commander’s sword slammed into his own, and the barrage of attacks was so fierce that all of Miyata’s attention and strength went to parrying. Sweat dripped into his eyes, and he felt a moment of lightheaded excitement as his vision blurred. He blinked rapidly, managing—just barely—to deflect a swing at his legs. The claymore slipped up toward Miyata’s hip and the commander drew it rapidly back. Miyata felt a line of pain as the blade slit his upper thigh. It was not deep, but the blood that spilled out soon drenched his breeches and boot.

He retreated carefully, feet sliding back and feeling for the littering of bodies behind him. He could barely defend against the maelstrom of blows. Suddenly, the commander lurched forward, body slamming into Miyata and knocking him back. The prince’s boot caught something solid and he toppled over, back connecting with an edge of stone and knocking the breath from him. He felt his head lolling back, vision blurring. The commander had pitched him neatly into the recess of a parapet, and as he gazed into the smoke-filled sky above, he wondered at the brightness of the sun and achingly blue sky. Wasn’t it usually rainy on the days of epic battles and great loss?

The shadow that fell over him woke him from the shock, and the prince tried to lift his sword, only to find that it was no longer in his hand. The commander grinned down at him, blue eyes sparkling in deadly pleasure as he raised his claymore to chest height and pinned the tip against Miyata’s chest.

“You fought well, Prince Toshiya,” he mocked. “It is a pity you will not be remembered for it.”

A harsh yell issued from behind the commander, and the man turned just in time to catch a sparking blow from the unexpected foe. Miyata watched dazedly as the big commander hurriedly defended himself from the onslaught of rapid strikes. The newcomer wore no armor but a pair of vambraces and a helm, and Miyata recognized him immediately. It was Yokoo—his best friend, and the head of his personal guard.

The commander, it seemed, had also recognized him, for he was retreating toward the far bastion, guessing with probable correctness that, if he fled, the knight would return to his prince rather than follow, but Yokoo—formally recognized as the five countries’ premiere swordsman—did not seem intent on giving him the chance. He feinted left, and as the man swiveled his heavy blade about to catch the strike, Yokoo lashed out with his right foot and caught the Raidenite man on his knee. Miyata heard the crack even over the roar of the battle below, and as the commander gave a shout and staggered backwards, Yokoo slid his blade neatly between his helm and breastplate, piercing his neck.

The big man fell to his knees, blood washing bright down Yokoo’s blade, and the swordsman lifted one booted foot to the man’s shoulder and pushed his body backwards, freeing his weapon. Reaching up, he pulled off the borrowed helmet and let it fall, rushing nimbly across the corpse-strewn flagstone to Miyata’s side.

“Highness!” he said, breath coming heavily. Miyata noticed with distant shock that Yokoo let his sword drop to the ground as he reached out to gather the prince up from the cradle of stone. Tugging Miyata away from the crenel, he caught him under the arms and dragged him to the relative shelter of the small room studding the end of the battlement. Once inside the bastion, Yokoo sank to his knees and dragged Miyata into his lap.

“Are you all right?” he asked, fingers checking the prince over for injury as though he hadn’t even asked. “Other than your leg, you don’t seem to be badly injured, but drink this. They’ve killed many of the brother-mages. I found this on one of them—it should give you some energy.” He held a small flask to Miyata’s lips and the prince drank, still feeling half-stupid from his fall.

The liquid burned his throat, tasting heavily of salt and sulfur, but he forced himself to choke the rest of it down. When he was finished, he lay for a moment in Yokoo’s lap, feeling his own heartbeat pounding, then slowing. Gradually, the pain in his back and shoulder lessened, and when he opened his eyes again, he could see the lines of his friend’s face clearly.

“I thought I was dead,” he said honestly, taking a bit of comfort from the fact that his friend was still alive. “I appreciate the timely rescue.”

Dimples and a long-canined grin appeared for a moment, and Yokoo levered Miyata to his feet. “They’ve stopped firing,” the swordsman said, “but I believe they still have some arrows, so keep your head down. I’m going to get my sword—stay here.”

Miyata leaned against the wall and waited for his friend to return, trying to re-ground himself. He had never been in a true battle before, and the feeling of blood on his clothes was an oddity he felt secondarily, as though he were not really himself. It was like a lucid nightmare. Yokoo returned with his and Miyata’s swords, plus an armload of mismatched armor. He dropped the armor to the floor, tossing bits of it at Miyata. It was primarily boiled leather, but the prince was grateful to don a pair of splinted bracers over his soaked sleeves. Most of the blood there was definitely his own, and the latticework of tiny cuts had probably lost him quite as much blood as the more significant wound on his thigh.

Yokoo’s own tunic was dark and hugged his lithe figure damply. The coal gray and green of the Miyata house looked strange so cloudy, as though the heraldic colors themselves were deeply disturbed by the event.

“What happened to you after we got separated?” Miyata asked, helping Yokoo with the buckle on his leather breastplate. The two of them had been sparring in the practice fields when the surprise attack had begun. His remote location had probably saved him, but in the flurry of men rushing to defend the keep and the confusion of battle afterward, he had been separated from Yokoo.

“I looked for you, of course,” the swordsman replied, returning the favor of buckling Miyata’s armor. “I fought my way back to the keep because I thought you would go to find your family—”

“I did.”

“—but the royal wing was swarmed, and I doubted you could have gotten there before me, so I doubled back, hoping to catch you on your way.”

Miyata nodded, hefting his sword again and testing its weight in his left hand. His shoulder ached a bit, but whatever healing draught Yokoo had given him seemed to have mended the worst of the damage. He shifted the blade back to his right hand, cleaned it on his breeches, and sheathed it.

“Take it back out,” Yokoo advised. “If we’re heading down to the inner bailey, we’ll be going right into the thick of the fighting.”

“But the Royal wing was swarmed, you said,” Miyata stared in shock. “If the fighting has made its way into the castle, isn’t the worst of it in there?”

Yokoo’s square jaw tightened in anger. “I met General Kimura in the keep,” he motioned Miyata toward the steep staircase heading down, cutting in front of the prince to descend before him. Normally, Miyata would have been annoyed by this protectiveness, but with the battle against the Raidenite commander still fresh in his mind, body still aching from the blows, he was willing to concede the lead to a superior fighter.

“Apparently, at the same time the Raiden forces attacked the bailey walls, a group of elites attacked from within.”

Miyata stopped on the stairs, shock nearly rolling him backwards. “Treason?” he asked. “Were we betrayed?”

Yokoo paused as well, turning back to look over his shoulder at Miyata. His dark eyes were worried, and the prince could tell that Yokoo did not want to say what he was going to say next, did not want to be the one to tell Miyata whatever he would tell him.

“The soldiers were Raidenite,” he began, “but they were dressed in Yamada livery. Judging by what General Kimura and I have both heard, the outside attack was launched from the Yamada estate as well. It does appear to be treachery, highness.” When Miyata did not move, Yokoo climbed back up the few stairs separating them and put his gauntleted, hand on Miyata’s good shoulder. “I’m sorry, Toshiya.”

Miyata looked at him, still trying to reconcile in his mind the ideas of his great aunt and uncle, his adorably precocious cousin Ryosuke, and the hoards of attacking men razing his kingdom. His own family, his mother’s cousin and her family, had betrayed them? How could that be? The Yamada estate was on the border of Brevain and Raiden, but they had always been staunchly loyal to the Brevainian crown. What had happened?

“Toshiya,” Yokoo said, shaking him a little. “We have to go. If we can fight our way to the East grounds, we may be able to escape through the canals. The whole city is under attack—this was planned for a long time.”

“What’s the point of escaping?” Miyata asked. “My family are dead, aren’t they? That commander said the royal wing collapsed.” He felt strangely numb as he watched Yokoo sheath his sword, and only understood what the other man was about to do a second before the open-palmed hand lashed across his face.

“You are a prince,” Yokoo growled, face so close to Miyata’s he could count the beads of sweat on the swordsman’s forehead. “You are a prince,” he repeated, “and you must never forget what that means. What matters is that your people have hope, and as long as you are alive, you are that hope. So fight! I’m with you, I’m fighting for you. Now pick up your sword.”

Yokoo released Miyata and unsheathed his blade again, continuing down the stairs without looking back. Miyata stared at the back of his friend’s head, wondering when the other boy had grown up and left him so far behind.

By the time the pair made it to the East grounds, Yokoo witnessed his prince felling more men than either of them had ever dreamed he would need to. His own blade was filthy, oil and blood and sweat dulling it the edge so that he was forced to use more strength than usual. Fighting blood pumped through his veins, supplying the necessary energy as he and Miyata fled to the canals. The outer bailey was not as thick with fighting as the inner, though the pair found themselves wheeling, pressed almost back-to-back as Raidenite soldiers surrounded them.

Yokoo lunged, voicing his outrage in a roar, and met the first man’s broadsword with a powerful sweep that knocked it away and flung his guard wide. Yokoo sliced up, hacking into the unprotected underarm and drew back. The next soldier was on him, and he skipped back, finding his prince’s back again, catching the four other assailants in his peripheral vision. He shifted the blade into one hand and redirected the blow to the ground, whipping out a smaller dagger and extending forward to slam it into the man’s thigh. The Raidenite man crumpled to the ground, but there was no time to spare on a coup de gras as the final two came at him at once.

He dove left and tucked into a roll, coming up on one knee behind the soldier, who was working not to collide with his fellow. The man wheeled in time to catch Yokoo’s thrust, but had lost the advantage of having him trapped. He gave another cry and shoved forward, locking hilts with the first man and shoving him backward into the second. In the corner of his eye, he could see Miyata’s blade whipping down, catching a glancing blow off his current target.

With the first guard unbalanced, he drew back and drove his blade with all the force he could muster into the man’s stomach. It snapped through chainmail and pierced leather armor, flesh, and organs. It would never come free in time. He flung himself backward and snatched up the sword dropped by one of his earlier quarries, and prepared to fight the last one, only to find that there was no need.

The final man was fleeing, clearly understanding that he was no match, even exhausted, for the Champion of the Prince of Brevain.

The prince himself swung his sword in an arc—opening his guard in a way that half-terrified Yokoo—and cleaved his enemy’s leather breastplate open like a walnut. Yokoo relaxed his tension only slightly, sweeping up behind Miyata to herd him toward the canals.

They ducked through a hidden door in the bailey wall, shoving aside the rusted grille and finding the passage hidden inside the wall itself. Cobwebs were thick as fabric through the unused tunnel, and Yokoo had to slice through them with his sword. He shuddered, wondering why tiny arachnids were somehow more terrifying than the hundreds of men he had faced in battle.

They emerged at the second grille-door, about a hundred meters north of the first, and shoved it open. Straight ahead, hidden and unused, were the two well-made boats meant for just such a disaster. The hidden dock, made at one of the worst points of the river—the place where it split into its western and southern branches. Here, the currents were strong and vicious, creating rapids over even the smallest rocks. Not wanting to rely on this treacherous waters, the ancient Brevanian rulers had commissioned a series of man-made stone troughs that wound through the city proper, fed by the same river, farther upstream.

No one had the need to boat here. The western branch had docks several leagues away, when it tapered out into a normal river, and the southern fed into swampland neither cultivated nor inhabited. They would have to go west, escape how they could.

There was a two-meter drop from their hidden door, and they would have to run along the skirt of the bailey wall a good ten meters, before the shadow of the wall itself obscured them. “Toshiya, you’ll go first. Run straight for the boat. I’ll be right behind, and untie it. We’ll have to sink the second one so no-one follows.”

Miyata nodded, and without a second glance, jumped and landed hard on the grassy turf underneath. He recovered quickly, waiting only for Yokoo to drop their swords before retrieving them and tearing off toward the boats. Yokoo leapt down after him, bits of armor digging painfully into his body as he landed, and followed.

He glanced up at the bailey wall, seeing no one. Everyone’s focus was directed at what was going on inside the castle, so no one was watching for activity outside. He felt a rush of elated triumph and rushed to where Miyata was standing inside one of the boats, driving his sword into the hull to break it. Yokoo went to work on the ties of both boats, sawing at them with the end of his use-dulled sword.

The bottom of the boat was filling with water, and it was almost sunken enough that it wouldn’t be useful. Miyata stepped gingerly over into the other boat and laid his sword carefully in the hull. Yokoo reached around and grabbed all four oars from their rungs and had just handed one to the prince when Miyata looked straight past him and shouted.

“Yokoo!”

The prince’s champion instinctively hit the ground, and a sling missile hit the surface of the river with an audible smack. He turned to see two men rushing towards them from the south side of the wall. Patrol.

He gritted his teeth as they raised a call-horn and trumpeted an alarm. He chucked two of the oars into the water, now useless, and hacked the rope that held Miyata’s boat. “I’ll swim out to you! Go!” He shoved the stern of the boat with his foot, ignoring the prince’s protests, and rushed up to meet the two guards.

They were short work, and it seemed as though no one had heard their call in the vicious battle within the walls. He ran to the dock, cast aside his sword, grabbed the final oar to help him through the rapids, and dove into the river. Miyata was fighting the current ahead, slowing down his vessel as much as possible until Yokoo caught up.

Something slipped, quicker than a fish, into the water near Yokoo’s head. One arm locked around the oar, he looked back and saw, to his horror, a row of four archers silhouetted on the bailey wall. They all held longbows. Cursing, he kicked harder, swimming with all his might.

Arrows pierced the water all around, and Miyata’s panicked shouts echoed over the river.

He was nearing the prince’s boat, which was itself dangerously near the crux of the rivers. Miyata lodged his oar between two rocks and held the boat back with all his might, and Yokoo fought against the current, feeling the eddies of confusion as both branches fought for possession of him. He was almost there. The whites of Miyata’s teeth stood out against a dirt and blood-stained face.

A high, hollow sound ripped through the air, and Yokoo’s shoulder opened up in pain. He cried out in agony, and Miyata yelled out a curse, reaching for him.

The prince’s oar broke, and the boat shuddered. Miyata’s outstretched hands missed him by inches. The prince’s boat scudded away, undirected, and went west. Yokoo watched, vision hazing over in pain, and was glad that his prince, at least would survive.

The current pulled him, fought over his body, and he went under.

Yugureden - Part VI - Yoru (Part II)

Wed, 15 Apr 2009 06:42:09 GMT

Title: Yugureden - Part VI - Yoru (Part I)
Author: Sakuraeda
Genre: Samurai Fiction AU
Fandom: Ya-Ya-yah
Length: 2,100 words
Summary:

After the death of Hikaru's father and Hikaru's subsequent marriage, things are anything but settled in the Yaotome realm. Matsuoka's forces seem to be picking fights wherever they perceive weakness--including attacks on both Hikaru's realm, and the gumis from Kitagawa's dojo. When Yabu arrives at the Yaotome domain with two members of Senkou-gumi (Kisumai) rather than Shoon, Hikaru braces himself. When they discover that Shoon has joined up with Senkou's Nikaido, Kaze gumi's Tegoshi, and Kenka gumi's Ueda for an undisclosed task, they fear the worst. Shoon himself is none too prepared for what follows...

…world sheathed in the silent blue glaze of midnight, the two slender figures slunk unseen beneath the eave of the guardhouse—a joint in the great arms of the wall surrounding Matsuoka’s estate house—and paused to listen. No sound save the flirting trickle of a tiny stream nearby marred the perfect night, including the steps of the two men as they searched for a high hump of earth beneath the outcropping eave. One figure dropped into a crouch, the second remained standing, listening a moment longer.
When Shoon was satisfied that the sound from inside the guardhouse had been a snore rather than the murmur of any wakeful being within, he stepped into the stirrup of Tegoshi’s laced fingers, bracing himself on the shorter boy’s shoulders and, on a silent count of three, launched himself into the air as Tegoshi stood. With the added leverage of Tegoshi’s push, Shoon’s hands reached the protruding roof and held fast. He was relieved to hear no creak of his weight straining the wood above. The edge of the roof was at least a meter from the wall, but Shoon didn’t need to brace himself to climb onto the curved slate tiles.

A moment later, he leaned back down to capture Tegoshi’s hand as the older, lighter boy leapt. It took only a moment to haul Tegoshi up and catch their bearings. Shoon quickly scanned the grounds, now visible from the guardhouse roof—the outer wall sprouted from either side, interrupted on the west side by the mammoth, iron-embraced doors of the nishimon: the main entrance to Matsuoka’s sprawling estate.

Only one small patrol prowled the grounds, though dozens more slept, katana ready, beneath their very feet. Shoon allowed himself a small nod of victory—they had done it; they had breached the “un-breachable” estate. Underneath the thick mantle of calm, Shoon almost felt surprised that it had been so easy. Of course, Nikaido had said this was the more overlooked area of the estate, and Shoon trusted the younger shinobi to know. He supposed no one expected an infiltration from the guardhouse itself, especially the overconfident Matsuoka.

Tegoshi tapped Shoon’s arm and nodded toward the façade of the three-storey mansion, where Shoon immediately spotted the pair of sentry standing watch. He only barely noticed the creeping, earth-tone clad figure before it struck, dropping one sentry without so much as a sound. Ueda—Shoon recognized the silhouette. The second sentry slumped half over the wall twenty meters away, though Shoon had seen no glitter of dart or shuriken from Ueda. That would be Nikaido, undetectable as wind in the air—a presence felt but never seen.

The guard slid silently back over the wall, and Shoon caught Tegoshi’s eye and nodded. As the ground patrol rounded the northwest corner of the mansion, the two shinobi leapt onto the wall and ran south along its track to where the small stream flowed through an iron grate below. They leapt lightly from the wall, following the stream’s course to the western wall, where it dropped off into a large lake that ran up against the side of the mansion itself. Shoon shrugged out of his jacket and removed his weapons from his belt, bundling them together before wading into the shallows.

Tegoshi was beside him, and they crossed the lake silently, jackets and weapons held above the water’s surface. They reached the wall and swam about the base until, finally, they found the rope that Ueda or Nikaido had dropped. Shoon tested his weight on it, and the grappling at the top held fast. Holding his bundle in his teeth, Shoon ascended quickly as a rat and held the rope fast as Tegoshi scurried up after him. He coiled the rope and the pair quickly darted into the cover of the sentry post.

“The guard will be back around in twenty minutes,” Tegoshi observed. “If they don’t notice the sentry are gone, we should be fine. If they notice, we’ll only have that long before they raise the alarm.” Shoon nodded.

“Nikaido said the office would be on the south side of the second floor,” Shoon said. Together, they headed for the steep, curving stairwell, sinking into the shadows. They slipped through hallways, bypassing guards who were too preoccupied to notice the barest hints of movement, and soon they had found their target—not the office itself, but the third, storey window over it.

Working quickly, Tegoshi sank the teeth of a grappling hook into the stone casement and wrapped the coils of rope about his arm. Shoon slipped his own spiked climbing gloves onto his hands and wound the end of the rope about his waist. He swung over the casement, dropped nearly a meter before the slack in the rope ran out and he swung against the wall. He sank his climbing spikes into the wall and found his purchase, and chirruped for more slack.

Slowly, Shoon made his way down the wall until he was even with the window, just to his left. He leaned slightly to look inside, pleased to see no one. He waited, listened, and heard nothing. Silently as a cat, Shoon pulled himself onto the windowsill and slid through the casement. It was so slender that even his own narrow hips barely let him slither through.

The office had a hardwood floor, which nearly glowed in the moonlight spilling through the window, and the elegant lines of fine furniture stood out in dim highlight against deep shadows. The writing desk lay ahead, and next to it a large case that likely held the documents he was after. Heart beating painfully in his throat, he stepped forward and reached for the case.

The next instant, he jerked his arm back with a sharp gasp. He had accidentally brushed his arm against the iron lantern on the edge of the desk, and the metal had burned him right through the wrapped cloth. It was still hot. It couldn’t have been extinguished for more than a few minutes.

The hair on the back of Shoon’s neck stood on end, and his head suddenly went light with fear. His heartbeat thundered. He backed away towards the window, towards the end of rope he knew was there. None of the shadows in the room moved, but there was still something wrong. He was sure now—more than just the lantern was unusual about the room. Something in the very air was wrong.

He turned, reached for the rope, and it slipped away, winding down. He nearly leaned out, when a body wrapped totally in black plummeted straight past his nose, causing him to backpedal and bite his tongue in fear. Seconds later, a splash evidenced Tegoshi’s landing in the moat.

Shoon’s heart stopped. He drew his short blade.

A shadow dropped from above…

…Above the noise of cicadas outside, they all heard the clatter. Over the past two days, all four gumi—Yoi, Senkou, Kenka, andKaze had gathered at the Yaotome estate, waiting in impatient nervousness for any word from their respective shinobi. Yabu leapt up and ripped back the paper door, sword in hand, and nearly dropped it in horror. Before him stood Udea and Tegoshi, supporting between them a sagging figure so ribboned with blood that he was barely recognizable as Nikaido. The youngest—and purest—shinobi’s feet dragged lifelessly on the ground, though Yabu knew he wasn’t dead. Had to believe it.

There was an almost inhuman cry behind him, and Yabu found himself knocked aside as members of Senkou gumi rushed forward like a wave, enveloping Nikaido and sweeping him into the room like a receding tide. The men of Kenka and Kaze enveloped their own members, though after a quick check that they were safe, both Koyama and Koki—Kenka’s surgeon—went to help Miyata stabilize Nikaido.

Yabu, Hikaru, and Taiyo had no such luxury. Ueda appeared to be the most healthy, so it was to him that Yabu turned, pushing past Taguchi and Kamenashi.

“Where is Shoon?” His tone demanded attention.

Ueda didn’t seem surprised by the question. “Behind. There was nothing we could do. It was a trap. They knew we were coming.”

Yabu wasn’t sure what came over him, but in the next moment he had launched himself onto the shinobi. “You left him?” he roared, barely aware of his fists clenched in Ueda’s jacket. “You left him! To save yourselves, you left Shoon! You left Shoon! You left him!”

Other hands had been pulling at him, but it was with undeniable strength that the hand grabbed the back of Yabu’s jacket and threw him backwards away from Ueda, and the open palm that slapped him across the face was more commanding than even his anger.

“Control yourself,” said the leader of Kaze gumi, Yamashita. The last name of his sempai seemed to be an inadvertent second slap as recognition hit Yabu, for it was the same as Shoon’s. He stared up at Yamashita, face smarting, and glared into the other man’s eyes.

“They abandoned him,” he said. “On his first mission.”

“We’re going back for him,” Tegoshi stepped forward. “He’s too valuable for information, so they won’t kill him.”

“He’ll kill himself! Isn’t that what you shinobi do?”

Tegoshi pressed his mouth into a grim line. “We don’t know anything. We can’t give away the secrets we don’t know…he won’t kill himself because he knows we’ll come for him.”

“I’m going too,” Yabu said, and a hand appeared on his shoulder—Hikaru.

“I think we’re all going,” Hikaru said.

Kamenashi, the leader of Kenka gumi, nodded at Yabu. “We’ll defend your holdings. If Kaze gumi can support us, there should be very lit—”

“I’m going with them,” Akanishi said. “They’re barely out of their first circuit! It’s stupid to let them go alone.”

“I already said I was going,” Ueda said. “You don’t need to come.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Shige cut in. “Ueda, Tegoshi, Yabu, Hikaru, and Taiyo. That’s already a large group, and don’t you think it would be more effective to have someone from Senkou gumi tagging along just in case? Any larger than six and you might as well shriek to the heavens that you’re coming, waving banners and sending up flares…”

Yabu buried his face in his hands, too many people talking at once, and pushed past the men standing in the open door and fled out into the silence of the evening, needing privacy, needing silence. He didn’t know where he was walking, but before long, he found himself in the decorative gardens behind the teahouse on the west side of Hikaru’s estate.

A river flowed peacefully past, and the stone bridge that arced over it had thick, sternum-high walls. Out here it was solitary, cool, and the sound of cicadas and frogs wound softly into a kind of background buzz. The river was beautiful, the gardens behind supplying a kind of perfume that would usually delight or sooth, but Yabu couldn’t think of any of it. His thoughts were dense, agonized.

Images flashed in his mind. A collarbone, a shoulder, the curve of his back—long black hair spilling across the futon as they squinted at each other and tried not to laugh. The look of pain on his face that slowly slackened into pleasure. He remembered his voice, too—the low groan and the mingled sounds of their gasps as they tried to be quiet so the others wouldn’t hear them.

Then came the sensations, or the memories of them. Shoon’s hand on the back of his neck, the skin of his chest damp and hot, his ankles locked tight behind Yabu’s thighs. Everything at the same time vibrant and vague. The scrape of teeth on his shoulder, a forearm locked around his waist, and the tight compression of Shoon’s body around him, all a distant memory so near he could still feel it.

Yabu leaned against the wall and tried to breathe, trying to stop the tears that were rising in his eyes, fighting the familiar notes of desire that came whenever he thought of Shoon. It was too painful to feel them now. Shoon. His Shoon. He might be dead, and if he wasn’t, soon would be. Hot streaks flashed down his cheeks, starting the flow of tears that poured from inside him. He pressed his face against his arm, leaning into the wall as his free hand closed into a fist.

This could not happen.

He saw the wall of the bridge, the night, and the stars. He saw the willow stroking the passing river like a lover’s touch. At the same time, he saw Shoon. The glow of his skin was before him, warm and white-gold, the fascinating smile on his lips holding him transfixed. The breeze ruffling Yabu’s hair was his fingers, weaving through it as Shoon turned to kiss him when it was over, his eyes sparkling with what neither had ever said.

Yabu wished they had.

He wished they could have just one more night.

The Yabu Picture

Tue, 10 Jun 2008 13:54:06 GMT

Several people have asked me for this picture, and I'm ashamed to admit that the only thing I have by way of getting the picture to you all is taking a pic with my phone.

The sexiness. Who would have thought everyone's favorite P.O.W. could end up saving money in college by doing laundry on his abs?

New Year's Resolutions

Fri, 30 Nov 2007 12:21:13 GMT

Ganked from Irea's journal.

In 2008, we resolve to...

Go to the NEWS every month.
Go writing three times a week.
Ask my boss for a kis-my-ft2.
Put fifty fanfics a month into my savings account.
Volunteer to spend time with Yamapi.
Get back in contact with some old kanjaniblues.

My favorites are "Ask my boss for a kis-my-ft2," "volunteer to spend time with yamapi" and "Get back in contact with some old kanjaniblues"

I'm not sure how I (Scribe) can put fanfics into my savings account, but if I could have a yen for every letter of fanfic I've written...TRS = 66,830 ; VoA = 71,176 ; YDen = 194,407...(without spaces)

66,830 + 71,176 + 194,407 = 332,413 yen. Damn. I wish I *could* put it into my savings account...

Scribe's thoughts on Ya3, Hey!Say!JUMP and moving on.

Sun, 18 Nov 2007 13:09:43 GMT

These days, it seems like a lot of hopes are flagging, while even others rocket to the stars. I know that I've been having a hard time personally with various responsibilities, and the happenings in the world of JE are not making the roller-coaster ride any easier.

I think my opinion of Hey!Say!JUMP and Ya-Ya-yah falls somewhere between Kamichan's and Irea's: I want to love HSJ, and I do love every member individually and think they deserve to be where they are, but there's a slight tang of bitterness to loving them. I don't have to use many words to explain why--Ya-Ya-yah. I do believe, however, that the age of supporting Ya-Ya-yah has passed. As Irea showed in her post, there were a group of four adult fans who brought hand-made uchiwa for each member of Ya3 and waved them at the boys during the "Kimi ni Otegami Itadakimasu" segment of Shounen Club this month. I never saw it, but if Hikaru and Yabu were teary-eyed as Irea said, I have to wonder if that was fair.

Yabu and Hikaru deserved to debut. Of course, I also believe that Shoon and Taiyo deserved it, though in the latter case I'm not sure he was quite ready. Yabu and Hikaru have every right to enjoy this accomplished dream, and I'm pretty sure they're trying to put Ya-Ya-yah out of their minds at the moment so that they can enjoy the sweetness of success without having to feel any guilt at leaving their four-year-compatriots behind. I'm also fairly certain that Shoon and Taiyo are trying their best not to think about Ya-Ya-yah right now so that they can focus on moving forward in whichever way they choose to do so. Shoon, it seems, is going to tough it out and fight through the ranks of the unaffiliated juniors once again. We're going to have to wait to see what he has chosen to do.

Am I saying we should stop supporting Ya-Ya-yah? As much as it tears at my heart to say it, the group Ya-Ya-yah no longer exists, and to support that group would be--in a way--denying its members the ability to move on gracefully. If I could have my way, Ya3 would still exist and would have debuted this spring/summer like Kamichan predicted, and like I believed. That, however, didn't happen, so holding onto the dream only hurts me. Holding onto that dream with a loud voice and uchiwa can only hurt them right now. In the future, I'm sure they'll be able to talk about Ya-Ya-yah, but I think it's for the protection of the ex-members right now that nobody is mentioning it.

I love Ya-Ya-yah, and I will always love Ya-Ya-yah. They will always be in my memory as one of the greatest junior groups that ever existed, and (I think, anyway) the only junior group to have their own self-named TV show. I think the best route for Ya-Ya-yah fans to take right now is to continue supporting each member individually in his chosen pursuits. If Taiyo decides (or has already decided) to quit Johnny's, I will support him in finding whatever it is he wants to do to move on and further himself. Maybe he will decide to be an actor! He was good enough in Kinpachi Sensei, and he's already well-known. Maybe he will take those brains he never gets credit for and make something great of himself.

Maybe Shoon will join a new group and get the spotlight he deserves--maybe he'll get a chance to shine as something more than a dancing, harmonizing accessory to Yabu and Hikaru. He spent the past couple of years proving that, when Ya-Ya-yah needed a task done right, he was the man to call. Shoon can do anything. He deserves more spotlight than he got in Ya-Ya-yah, and maybe now he can get it. Who knows--he could end up in a band with Reon!

Yabu and Hikaru are soaring to an even higher level of stardom than they'd had before, and they deserve to be happy about it. Let's support them. I still want to cry because Ya-Ya-yah is gone, but there's nothing I can do about it. At this point, the break can't be undone. To quote Kaylie from Firefly, "sometimes a thing gets broke can't be fixed." I believe that Ya-Ya-yah will never be a unit again--their time has passed, and it's time now to let it rest. There is nothing more we fans can do for Ya-Ya-yah as a band but hurt them by insisting, because there's nothing they can do about it either. For Shoon and Taiyo, it's like poking a wound and saying "don't you wish you didn't have this cut? Doesn't it hurt?" For Yabu and Hikaru it's like saying "your fans aren't happy about you achieving your dream, because you didn't achieve it they way they wanted you to."

Ouch. In both cases.

More than anything, I want all four of them to be happy. A month ago, I was on the "Te wo Tsunaide Yukou yo" bandwagon, but I've jumped off. I think it would do more harm than good. I think it would be a more passive version of the fans who screamed at Kame to "go die" at KAT-TUN's debut concert because he released "Seishun Amigo" with Yamapi before "Real Face" came out. It wasn't his decision, yet the fans caused him pain. Obviously, we're trying to support a band we like in a positive way, but sometimes positive things can yield negative results. I don't want to cause any member of Ya-Ya-yah pain. I only want to see them happy.

Maybe I can't move on as easily as Kamichan, and maybe I can't love HSJ as easily as he can. Maybe I can move on more easily than Irea, and maybe I can see a good future despite the fact that my favorite band just broke up so suddenly. All three of us, I believe, are very passionate individuals, and I'm still wondering whether or not Kamichan's blog will always remain Ya3genshiro, or if the name will ever change...although a part of me hopes it won't.

I wanted to offer my support in whatever way I could to the members of Ya-Ya-yah, HSJ, and to all the juniors struggling toward their dreams. I also wanted to offer my support to the fans who are also struggling with the upheaval in fandom, so I recorded part of one of my favorite songs, the lyrics to which I believe are very pertinent. I wish this feeling to everyone mentioned, the feeling of being able to believe in one's self and move forward without the fear of making a mistake--to move past the uncertainty into sunlight.

It's only the first verse, but please listen to it. I can't offer much to fandom, but this is one thing I feel confident in doing--showing my support through music.

"I Believe" by Ayaka (Translation by Scribe)

Hiding inside my heart
is a whirlpool of worries.
The way to further myself
is right before my eyes,
but which road is it?

All of my days flowing with people--
I say "goodbye" to that self.

I believe myself.
with these beliefs
Everything I imagine can begin.
I believe myself.
I can walk into the warmth of the light
without being mistaken.
I believe.

AUDIOFIC -- The New Wave of Fanfiction

Sun, 11 Nov 2007 06:58:03 GMT

Have you ever been late to class or work because you just couldn't bear to leave that fanfic unfinished? Have you ever wished you could double duty clean your room and read fanfic at the same time? Have you ever sat on the train or the bus and wished you had something to listen to other than your SC ripped, low quality fan-screams-included version of Itoshii no Playgirl...AGAIN. The creators of MyMeMine proudly present their solution:

http://audiofic.blogspot.com

At the moment, the blog is still under works. Submission guidelines will be posted shortly, but before you turn on your microphones and get to reading, please know that audiofic will NOT accept smut. We get an icky feeling deep inside at the thought of a stranger's voice telling us exactly where THAT part goes. For more submission guidelines, please visit the blog itself.

Audiofic proudly presents its first production:

Tiny Roller Skates
By Scribe

To hear parts 2-4, please visit Tiny Roller Skates at Audiofic!

FuK!HAY!

Tue, 25 Sep 2007 01:08:11 GMT

So, I was wondering what would happen if Hey!Say!JUMP did remain a permanent group and, heaven forbid, Ya-Ya-yah and (though I'm a little less worried about it) J.J.Express disbanded. The left over members from those two units are Fukasawa, Kamei, Hasshi, Ayukawa, and Yamashita. Henceforth, their J.E. unit shalt be known as: FuK! HAY!

Appropriate? I think so.

FUKASAWA
Admittedly, I've only been able to pick his face out of a crowd in the past few months or so, but I've been very relieved of late to see him back in JJE, which is one of many reasons I'm hoping they don't disband. He's one of the best-looking members of JJE, and he's a really good dancer. Unlike Ya-Ya-yah (*cough* Hikaru *cough*) all of JJE are good dancers.

KAMEI
Oh, my darling Kamei. He's always been in my three favorite members of JJE. I'm hoping that, if everything does fall apart, he'll kick enough ass in Kinpachi Sensei to be able to continue acting. Although, as Hikaru and Taiyou's example shows, it may not happen no matter how much ass you kick. I'll be rooting for Kamei this season--I hope he gets to do something cool.

HASSHI
Poor dear. Unlike Fukasawa, Hasshi never took a break from JJE, and now he's the only one who's been here the whole time who has nothing to do but backdance. It would really suck for him if HSJ stayed and he went from being in a band to being a backdancer. I noticed him dancing in the background during the Hey!Hey!Hey! performance. Hopefully, he and Fukasawa, and Kamei, and Asaka can keep JJE alive? I don't know.

AYUKAWA
Taiyou. What can I say. Ya-Ya-yah forever. He's just beginning to hit his stride--the one who's always on the bench is finally stepping up to the batter's plate...only to find that half of his team might be transferred. I have faith that Ya-Ya-yah will live on, but will they ever debut? Maybe if JE lets them continue writing their own songs and playing their own instruments. Maybe if JE lets their show go back to the studio, back to the games, or lets it move on to something more like SMAPxSMAP, with skits and segments like "Craft Cowboy" filmed in front of a studio audience, with a live stage at the end. I know some people like Kami-chan would like to see more juniors...personally, I would like to see less of anyone who isn't Ya-Ya-yah! NEWS could stay, maybe. I don't think the show would be the same without them since they've always been there, but I'd like for Ya-Ya-yah to do the hosting, not NEWS. It's about time they get their own show.

YAMASHITA
I can't even talk about Shoon. My plushies who were named after him and Yabu--their names are Kon and Shouta--are sitting in my lap as we speak, wearing the 2006 season tee-shirts I made for them. Thinking of Shoon makes me want to cry.

In any case, we will obviously have to wait for either JE to hold a HSJ press conference, or for the SC on Sunday after next, to see whether or not Ya3 and JJE are performing together. Obviously, they will pimp HSJ, but hopefully it'll be like it was with Kitty. HSJ, then everyone splits off and Ya3! JJE! We'll have to wait and see. I'll keep everyone updated as best as I can.

~Scribe

PS: Thanks to nyagcpinkuneko for her help with uploading the clips last night, and Kami-chan/Akaru, for using their combined fandom skills to make sure it reached as many people as it did. I wouldn't have wanted to wait another second.

Hey! Say! JUMP

Mon, 24 Sep 2007 07:23:42 GMT

SO... Having just watched the Jonny's announcement about the new group debut, there are most certainly mixed opinions all around. I will say, It was most amazing to watch it live from Japan, yays to Scribe. I (Kia) and my roomates kit_rin and silvertsubasa, watched over Scribe's webcam as, at 3:20pm Japan time, 2:20am our time, the debut of Hay! Say! JUMP was announced. It was amazing, exciting, and overwhelming, all at once. The 10 person group consists of juniors Nakajima Yuuto(14), Yamada Ryosuke(14), Chinen Yuri(13), Morimoto Ryutaro(12), Takaki Yuuya(17), Arioka Daiki(16), Inoo Kei(16), Yabu Kota(17), Yaotome Hikaru(16), and a mystery 10th boy, who's name I have not heard before, Okamoto Keito... I hope I got that name right, the sound was blurry. Ohno... Okada... Tegoshi... with the previous track record of the unknown singers int eh suddenly debuting bands, this kid might just be amazing.
Before the band was announced, they began to reference V6, Arashi, and NEWS. So... permanant? Maybe. As they new band was announced, I was amazingly happy, and nervously excited... until the last two names were announced. Yabu. HIkaru. Shit.
Scribe has taped this, for your viewing pleasure. Those videos will be following shortly.
We've been doing a lot of talking about this. Too much of an age gap? What about Y3's TV show? New Y3 song? Recent JJExpress activity? Hopefully, the three hour HeyX3 special later will clear up some of these questions, and we can all stop freaking out. Minus two... This band would rock.
Cross your fingers and wait with us! Ganbatte, Hey! Say! Whatever happens, I can only wish them the best, I'm sure they're happy right now.

EDITx2: It appears that it is actually two sub-bands, Hey! Say! BEST (older boys), and Hey! Say! 7 (the kids) Together, they are Hay! Say JUMP .
*Thanks Kami-chan, medetaiakaru

YABU AND HIKARU COSPLAY WINS MASTERS-LEVEL 1st PLACE!!

Mon, 28 May 2007 02:52:23 GMT

Kia as Yabu Kota and Scribe as Yaotome Hikaru...who is suddenly the better dancer? Well, we can only really make the costumes. God, I (Scribe) am way too short. I never realized how rediculously short I was compared to Kia. *sigh* But on to the important part...

OH MY GOD, WE WON!!!!!

When Kia and I started making our Ikujinashi costumes for Animazement 2007's cosplay, we briefly toyed with the idea of competing in the masters level. We've won enough awards at Animazement to compete at that level: novice first place, three judges awards, and an intermediate third place--exactly the five required to compete at masters level.

We never expected to win.

This year, they split the cosplay into two groups--those who can sew and those who can "dance." In other words, there was a performance competition and a costume competition. Well, Kia and I aren't seamstresses, so the construction of our coats--while the end result looked pretty awesome--was rather haphazard. We didn't think we'd do very well in craftmanship--indeed, there were some KICK ASS costumes there that utterly owned us--but we had a GREAT cosplay planned. The video will be up on youtube soon, and we'll have pictures up as soon as possible, too.

YATTA!

As a side note, our roommates--Caitlin, Shannon, Khaki, and Ashley--were there as Twilight Musume, and performed Morning Musume's "Egao YES! Nude" and also won a judges award for their amazing dancing! Together, we were the JPOP room! Johnny's and Morning Musume!

AWARDS WE AND OUR FRIENDS WON:

*KARAOKE:
Salmon Award (Twilight Musume)
?? Award (Twilight Musume)

COSPLAY:
Judges Award (Twilight Musume - Egao YES! Nude)
1st place Novice (Tippy and Brother as Triangle Head - puttin' on the ritz!)
1st place Advanced/Masters (Kia & Scribe as Yabu and Hikaru - Johnny's 2006 Hit Medley)

SOME NOTES:

1.) RANT: One note about karaoke this year was that it utterly sucked. Unlike past years, which was first-come-first-serve, this year was lottery based. In other words, everyone signs up, but only fifteen are pulled from the hat to compete. Twilight Musume--thank god--got to compete, but I (Scribe) did not. It pisses me off, because I have been practicing my karaoke for four months now and was there super early to make SURE I got to compete. Even though I was the fifth person in line, I didn't get to compete. My friend Bish tried to give up her spot for me, but they said if she did, her spot would go to an alternate, not to me. It's my biggest gripe about the con. I don't think the lottery system is "more fair." I think the people who REALLY want to compete will rehearse and rehearse and then make SURE they get there early enough to sign up. I think the people who want it more deserve the chance to compete more than the ones who sign up last minute because they *might* win a $200 kimono. /rant

MYMEMINE REPRESENTING JOHNNY'S ENTERTAINMENT AT ANIMAZEMENT 2007!

2.) OPPAIS: A note about cosplaying males: if you are a DDD cup, breast binding will be utterly impossible. While Kia was able to achieve Yabu-flatness (if not his P.O.W. physique) Scribe is going for the Hikaru-has-been-working-out-with-Yamapi look. Either that or Queen Elizabeth. By the time we got our award, Kia and I had been in a combination of pantyhose and duct tape for 12 hours.

3.) YAOI: YAY for finishing costumes the day of cosplay! What's funny is that Kia and I had all Ya-Ya-yah costumes this year. We had the Ya3 raglan shirts and walked around in those on friday--I was Shoon, she was Yabu, and I brought Shota and Kon so we could carry plushies of each other (picture of Shota and Kon soon). I also Have a very last minute, two-hour makeup of Shoon's Sgt.Pepper outfit, which I walked around in on Sunday. The greatest thing? Kia and I bought SEME and UKE cell phone straps. They made us laugh VERY hard.

4.) UNRECOGNIZED: It's amazing how many JE fans there seem to be in North Carolina...and yet none of them who are not our friends came to Animazement. Yes, the entire con, Kia and I walked around unrecognized. Yabu and Hikaru/Shoon were very disturbed at the lack of screaming fangirls...not to mention the fact that "Taiyo had talked them into going to an anime convention."

I guess that's enough of a post. We'll put up some pictures as soon as we 1.) develop ours or 2.) find them on the internet. ^_^ Thanks!

~Scribe & Kia

An Experiment In Idol Undercover Operations

Fri, 04 May 2007 03:47:29 GMT

Have you ever looked at a rack of pink camoflage and wondered, just what IS the use for such things? For one, it's Camo. Used for hunting, hiding, and covert military operations into forested areas. For two, it's pink. Yes. PINK. For use in... Barbie dreamhomes? Lets see. A combination of the above points seems to me to be just a little counter intuitive. Unless you're planning to stage an assassination on the king of the Flamingos, or raid a cabana bar in flowery Hawaii, it just doesn't seem to serve a purpose. If I were a deer, I'd run away... if I could stop laughing first.
Do not fear, faithful readers. There is hope. On a venture through Wal-mart (initiated through a mutual desire to hear Kimura Howl talk sexily at us in all his Miazaki glory), Scribe and I suddenly realized what the purpose of pink camoflage really is.

camoflage, pink: \ka-meh-flazh, pink\ (n) 1. horrendous attempt at modern female fashion combined with military style. 2. A tool for blending unseen into the clothing racks of a Johnny's Entertainment changing room, for less than innocent purposes.

..... I should submit my entry to Websters.

~Kia

MyMeMine

Thu, 18 Jan 2007 03:34:23 GMT

Welcome...
...to My Me Mine, a journal of fanfics! Two of us inhabit this small corner of fanspace, and though the stories found here are written seperately, we write in the same Johnnyverse, sharing themes and plots that have crossed into more than one of our fics. Our styles are different, but we influence each other's work so heavily that it's almost necessary to post them together. There isn't one of our works not heavily influenced by the hand of the other. We hope seeing our stories side by side will help for some of them to connect, and we also hope you all enjoy our work. Irrashaimase!!

NOTE: The fics on this journal are friends only locked. To read, please friend us!

Ficography

Sakuraeda*
Yugureden (unfinished)
(Yoake) (Asa) (Hiru) (Gogo Part I)
(Gogo Part II) (Yugure Part I) (Yugure Part II)
(Yoru Part I)
Victims of Abuse (unfinished)
First Story - Shoon
Second Story - Yabu (Part I / Part II)
Tiny Roller Skates
(Part One)(Part Two)(Part Three)

Kia
The Promise

Collaboration
Practicum Bombardment
(KoyaShige - Finished)
Before and After
(MiyaTama - Finsihed)

*Sakuraeda is a new nickname for JE fandom.