End of an Era II: "The True Ruler of All Shamans"

[Innle]

Notes: To Renna: Yes you are. You have a female OC connected with Ren and Hao who doesn't come across as sueish. That takes talent.

This chapter's a bit short (especially compared to the notes)... and it's the first in 3rd person. Sorry, point-of-view was getting tiring! Oh, and anyone who can figure out what actual historical site in Italy that the monastery Lucredio is based on gets a cookie.

I apologize for screwing around with Christian mythology for this chapter (and pretty much all later ones), but it's canon (see volume two, page thirty-seven) that mankin-verse Jesus was just one of the past Shaman Kings. So if there are things that offend you in this, please don't hurt me! Just tell me I'm bad! I mean no offense!

***Part five: In which the plot arrives abruptly

"I told him, my lord, I told the false king's brother what you said to," the sycophant mewled, lying her head on her master's lap as if she were his daughter.

He was getting annoyed. They'd all been so clingy lately, like they expected his "holiness" to rub off or something. But of course he couldn't let that show. "You've done well, my child. Soon you will progress to the Highest Circle." Mystic bullshit, all of it. But soon he'd be not only rich, but in complete control. Complete control of everything. Soon the world would be his to command. Soon they would all be dead.

Once he found the Hand, he would find the Tomb. And then the power of god would be his to command. His alone. The "True King" smiled, and the hearts of those nearby were seized with fear....

***

"I'm not authorized to do this, Marco. I hope you realize that." Luchist avoided looking at his former student, instead concentrating on stirring cream into his coffee.

"I know. But if you don't give me this information, things we will both regret will come to pass."

Luchist looked up. For the first time he could remember, Marco saw his teacher look frightened. No, not frightened. Haunted. "The Vatican doesn't want to do anything about this. They don't believe that the "True King" and his followers are enough of a threat to reassemble Section Thirteen." His hands shook as he raised his cup to take a sip of the coffee, and some splashed out, staining the tablecloth. "The cult of the True King is attempting to find the burial place of Jesus Christ. To do this, they'll need an artifact known as the Hand of Lentulus. He was a legionnaire who guarded the tomb, and who was transfigured into an angel."

"So how does his hand still exist?" Marco asked, trying not to laugh.

"Stop smirking! I'm not too old to slap you for impertinence!" Luchist snapped. "This is a serious matter. It's open to debate as to whether it's his actual hand or not. It could be some sort of weapon, or something he kept close to hand. Furthermore, the 'angels' may well have been operatives of the Patch. The tomb was actually a site where the King could be binded to God." He carefully set down his drink, and sighed deeply. "The Hand, according to legend, will point the way to the Tomb when taken to Cavalry - damn it, Calvary - Hill. If this 'True King' is able to go there, he could well be able to take a piece of the Great Spirit for himself."

"So why is this worrying? The Vatican has it stored with other relics of that kind, don't they?"

"No. I'm afraid this is the worst part: the Hand of Lentulus was entrusted to the monks at the monastery of Lucredio some four hundred years ago, and never retrieved after they... became heretics."

Marco felt the blood drain from his face. "You took me there after I became your apprentice. We were meant to retrieve it back then, weren't we?" He remembered Lucredio, all right. "You were nearly killed, I became a fighting shaman on that night..."

"Yes. Believe me, if there were any other way, I would have - "

"Don't bother," Marco said, standing up and tossing a crumpled wad of low-amount banknotes on the table. "I thank you for the information, regardless. And for breakfast. Goodbye for now." He tried to ignore the stares of the restaurant's other patrons as he walked out. "Lucredio monastery... the place I've had nightmares of for years. My god, I have to go back there now..." he whispered, feeling the old screaming terror creep up again.

He'd been eleven years old, that time. They'd snuck in after closing (it was, after all, largely a tourist attraction), and entered the monastery church, hoping to enter the crypt and retrieve a relic. The Hand of Lentulus, he now knew.

They hadn't gotten farther than that. Luchist had been slammed into a wall by some unseen force, and Marco had been nearly suffocated by the same malignant spirit. Or perhaps it was a different one, there had been so many that night.

He'd grabbed Luchist's gun and fired wildly, hoping the blessed weapon would drive off the worst of the ghosts. Instinctively, he'd put furioku behind the bullets, and the ghosts backed off after a few of their number were destroyed. It wasn't before he'd been badly bruised, however. Luchist had been clawed by one that had looked only faintly human. But they'd backed off once he started shooting and waving around a crucifix.

They had barely escaped, even with that. It seemed like all the monks who had... become heretics had decided to attack them that night. It was for that reason that Marco had begged to be trained as a fighter, rather than a healer or mediator. He hadn't wanted to be so vulnerable again.

And now the one place he still feared had made a reappearance in his life. Truly, he was damned....

[kfttjdb]

YOU SUCK.







Not really. This chapter was well written, but forgive her. Renna is now confused.

[Innle]

Like I said, the plot arrived rather abruptly... don't worry. I'm not good at exposition, but when Marco gets to Japan ALL WILL BE MADE CLEAR. Clearer, at least.

And expect more from Hana and Manta's points of view!

[Ssteiny]

Looking forward to the next chapter I am, (oh geez, in my head not the yoda voice)

[Useless]

Been meaning to comment on this....

To be honest, Innle, I was confused at first with this chapter and the amount of info you pushed into it. After reading it again, though, it does seem interesting. I cannot wait to see how you handle this confrontation between the Mankin gang and Hao against the "True King" cult.

On some curious notes, will you be bringing Jeanne into the mix sometime? Plus, I thought in the first half of your story, she was brought back to life, so how come Ren's body is breaking apart?

[Innle]

Notes: I really do apologize for this chapter. It's mostly a bridge. Yes, Jeanne will be arriving, and as to Ren... that's going to get explained shortly afterwards. As to why Jeanne calls Marco "Dad," that's what the convent's inhabitants think their relationship is. And about the random shoujo-ai spirit pairing, I have no excuse. None. Shoot me. (Also, I've always imagined Morphine as having a lower-class British accent when she speaks intelligibly.)

***Part six: A gathering of sorts.

The sound of a personal tape recorder broke the three AM silence, as Lyserg Diethyl switched his on. “It’s a little known fact that the human body has myriad erogenous zones, not just the ones most people could name. For example, there’s a spot about four centimeters square on the left side of Ryu’s back; when I brush my fingertips over it he falls over and makes small purring noises.

But of course no one would care to hear exactly how to make Mister Manly Former Gang Leader let himself be topped. Be rather awkward if this turned up in a biography, wouldn’t it? Hn, what was I talking about again? Damn, it’s hard composing case notes in the middle of an afterglow... Right. The cult. The berkes who shot me. Right.” He sighed, heavily. “At the moment, I know next to nothing about them.”

Ryu stirred, mumbling something about having to cook for a king. Lyserg laughed, quietly of course, and switched the tape recorder off. Some things were best left until morning.

***

Meanwhile, outside, his spirit was sitting with a lover of her own. Kororo had been shy at first, but Morphine had soon passed that. “You’re depressed again. What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing. I’ve missed you, and Tokagero was a jerk earlier.” Unfortunately for any human observers, the leaf spirit’s speech was as unintelligible as her girlfriend’s. Unless, of course, one happened to be a spirit oneself.

“Tell me what he said, and I’ll exact payment from him with my butch fairy fists,” Morphine drawled.

Kororo smiled briefly before looking depressed again. “He said I look like one of those American bobbing-head dolls, and that it’s no wonder I had to turn gay since no guy would go for that. He was drunk, but it still hurt.”

Morphine sighed. “Let me guess, he was boasting about his sexual exploits again.”

“Yeah. I sort of told him that explained the weird skin color, if he’d had so many rent-women.”

“Good for you!”

***

In France, it was much earlier. Marco sighed as the jet touched down. Jeanne had wanted to finish a semester without going off on an adventure, “just once.” Unfortunately, people with shamanic abilities could never really avoid such things. She’d be at dinner by the time he arrived at the convent; it might be best to call ahead.

After the call, airport security was a blur, as was the drive up. “Lucredio...” he murmured more than once, the name leaving a sour taste in his mouth. But that all vanished when Jeanne walked out, accompanied by an exasperated-looking young nun burdened with what luggage Jeanne had deemed necessary for a trip to Japan.

“Dad!” she cried, running towards him. “So, what is it this time?” she asked, smiling mischievously. “Does the world need saving again?”

Marco paused for a moment, taking in the sight of his daughter. “You’re taller, we’re going to have to go shopping.” Sweeping her up in a hug, he continued, “I know that isn’t an answer. It’s complicated, but the situation is serious enough that Hao needs to be involved.”

Jeanne’s smile disappeared as she was set down. “So we’ll be working with him. If it’s that bad, then why isn’t the Vatican involved yet?”

“They don’t believe that the group in question is a real threat.”

“Again? Why do we always get the hard jobs?”

The nun coughed. “That’s probably because you do freelance work, mademoiselle. If you would not mind, could I perhaps go back to dinner?”

“Ah! I’m sorry, of course you can!”

Marco suppressed a laugh. Taking Jeanne’s suitcases, he walked back to the car, leaving her to apologize to the nun.

***

Hao slammed the onsen’s front door open and kicked off his shoes. “I’m here, everyone! Wake up and say hello!” When no one did, he staggered into the kitchen and rummaged around in the cabinets.

Yes, the Shaman King was drunk, and wanted to be more so. It was usual, nowadays, for him to be drunk. Even at three AM on a tuesday night in July. He froze as he heard someone enter behind him. “Ah, Faust-san. Pleasure to see you again.”

“You’re going to kill yourself, drinking as you do.”

Hao shut the cabinet, plans for a binge foiled by Yoh’s lack of alcohol. “Did you consider that perhaps I want to?” he asked, not turning around. Faust sighed as the one person (besides Eliza, of course) that his allegiance was sworn to collapsed unconscious on the kitchen floor.

“The young fool. He shouldn’t carry the weight of the world’s emotions alone... he needs a wife. Or something.” Dragging Hao to an empty bedroom, Faust swore under his breath (in German, just in case Hana should somehow be awake and overhear).

[Ssteiny]

This is very good. I like the drunken Hao. The characters become more and more interesting. keep writing.

[Innle]

Notes: Woohoo, another update. I don't know if anyone's still here after the random shoujo-ai in the last chapter... but if you are, this one should be a bit better. Yeah. That's right.

***Part seven: Holy Waffles, Shaman! (or, Hana likes American cartoons and Hao Works In Mysteeeeeeerious Waaaaaaaays)

I carefully stepped into the room, Spirit of Sword in one hand and a tea tray balanced on the other. Dad had mentioned that Uncle Hao had a hangover, and I didn’t want to take any chance that he might accidentally kill me. “Um... Faust-san said you weren’t feeling well, so I brought you some tea,” I said timidly. The thing about Faust wasn’t wholly a lie... I mean, he had told me what tea to give to Hao.

A really, really creepy laugh answered me. “Tea, hmm? Is that all Yoh will give me? Nothing stronger?” He didn’t sound like I remembered him sounding, his voice was all cracked, like he was sick. “Come here, Hana, and put down the heirloom your father’s given you. I’m not about to kill my house’s only heir.”

How’d he know about the sword? I still don’t know. “Okay.” I set the tray down and poured him a cup of tea.

“Do you know why I’m drunk most of the time, Hana?”

“No. Mom says it’s because you’re an idiot, but that’s just her opinion.”

He laughed and took a sip of the tea before answering that. “Of course Anna would think that of me. She never did trust me. Do you want to know why I’m a worthless drunk?”

I didn’t, really, but he looked like he wanted to tell someone about it. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Smart little thing, aren’t you? It’s good that you are, it’s nice to have someone intelligent to talk to when I’m feeling clearheaded for the first time in so long. But what was I saying? Ah yes, my reason for staying so inebriated so often,” he said slowly. “I am the Shaman King, Hana. As such, I am tied to this world.”

I interrupted him. “Like Aang in Avatar?”

He sighed. “I suppose so, though I certainly hope I have better dress sense. I can’t believe your mother lets you watch television... I am tied to this world. All of the hopes and dreams, all of the lies and sins, all of the thoughts of this world are tied to me. I drink to escape that. Do you understand now?”

I stood up. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry if I scared you... but if you could tell your father what I’ve said to you, I’d be pleased.” He downed the remaining tea and poured himself another cup. “And tell him to expect visitors tonight. Good ones, not ones that look like Kaonashi.”

“How’d you know that?!” I demanded, grabbing the Spirit of Sword from the floor where I’d put it.

Hao grinned. “I work in mysterious ways....”

***

Lyserg awoke to the sound of Ryu tiptoeing around their room, getting dressed. “What time is it?”

“I think it’s around eight o’clock, the clock in here doesn’t work. Don’t get up, Faust woke me up to tell me that you shouldn’t do anything too strenuous today,” he said, looking concerned.

“Ryu. Getting dressed on my own is not strenuous. I’m not about to break. If anything, last night was strenuous enough that the good doctor would have a fit.” He glared at his partner (in crime and certain other things) and shakily stood up. Looking down at his shaking and twitching knees, Lyserg made an irritated noise. “On the other hand, he’s probably right, as usual. I’ll sit down before these give out. Hand me my clothes and I’ll get dressed lying down.”

“Maybe I should do that for you,” Ryu replied, grinning in a way that made Lyserg blush.

“It’s my legs that are weak, not my arms! Don’t you dare pick me up! I’m not a doll!”

It was a very awkward time for Hana to come in, which of course meant that he did. “Um... Bluebell-san told me to come get you two, she made waffles,” he said, shielding his eyes. Yuck! Mom and Dad are bad enough, but Uncle Ryu and Lyserg? Definitely worse! I did not need to know that it was possible to have green hair down there!

“We’ll be down as soon as he lets me get dressed,” Lyserg said, belatedly covering himself up with one side of Ryu’s unbuttoned shirt.

“Right, I’ll tell her that....” Hana wasted no time in running from the room.

“I think we traumatized him!” In response to Lyserg’s accusation, Ryu only laughed.

***

Marco sighed. The line through customs was barely moving. “I think someone is up there trying to order a hamburger,” he said quietly to Jeanne. She laughed.

“I think they’re ordering more than just that, probably enough for a picnic.”

“Jeanne, you’ve developed a sense of humor!”

“Yes, and?”

“Nothing... it’s just strange to hear you speak in anything other than serious terms.”

“So you still think of me as ‘the girl with the iron will?’ I guess I deserve that.” She sighed. “It’s strange to be going through customs in Japan and have it take so long. I can understand American customs taking a while, but Japanese? It makes no sense!”

“No, it doesn’t,” Marco agreed. He was starting to wish he’d brought a book....

***

Somehow, Ren was still asleep. He moaned quietly, and kicked at something dream-real. Chocolove resisted the urge to kick his former teammate, but instead set quietly down the plate he held. “I brought you breakfast.”

No response.

“Well, if you wake up and are hungry, there are waffles by your suitcase.”

A twitch and some half-mumbled words about lemurs on crack.

Chocolove sighed. “And if you come downstairs, I’ll accept an apology.” He walked out and shut the door behind himself.

Ren woke up, noticed the plate, and wondered who had been in his room.

[Ssteiny]

Yes, Hao is very magical when he is uninebriated. Traumatized Hana, too funny. after 8 can't write in complete....
I can't wait to see Horo horo's horifying discovery of his spirit's new love interest.(it's good being the authors boyfriend, I know more than you do mwuhahahahahah)

[Useless]

Wonderful again, Innle. And to respond to what you said somewhat else, the shoujo-ai between Morphine and Kororo did not really bother me, though the "afterglow" comment in part six was a disturbance.

Yeah, I have no criticisms other than don't leave us hanging on suspense for too long.

[kfttjdb]

Okay, it's making more sense now. I didn't read Six or the first quarter of Seven, but still I get the jist. I like your writing style. (I know I've said it before, but...) Keep writing.

[Drave]

Ah, I do love how you write Marco so well. Always in-character, but not boringly so.

mm, waffles.

[Innle]

Notes: Lovely's gonna kill me for the avatar I've got, oh yes, oh yes, she iiiiiiis! Sorry for taking so long with this! It's back into the point-of-views!

Oh, and on is a concept of a debt of honor that can't quite be translated from Japanese into English. It's a debt that really can't be repaid, and having on to someone inferior to you is really disconcerting. (At least according to The Chrysanthemum and the Sword, by Ruth Benedict, a text on Japanese culture first published in 1946. It's slightly biased, having been written by an American woman, but the information on debts of honor is extremely valuable.) Square watermelons are exactly what they sound like: fruit grown in a cubic mold, often given to someone who you have a debt to as a present. Because of the process needed to make them, they're quite expensive.

***Part eight: Honor?

I do remember Ren being good at dodging things he disliked, but not coming downstairs until one in the afternoon takes talent. He managed to get out of washing the dishes from breakfast, helping with lunch, and kept from helping me hook up the backup generator outside. (I hate machines. I hate them with a passion. I got oil and grease all over my hands and in my hair!) You'd think he'd studied my dear brother's ability to be lazy!

Maybe he did. After all, he was friends with Yoh before anyone else in their group.

Even though I spared their lives, I'm still an outsider. I suppose it's to be expected, I am after all less than what is normally called sane. I'll grant that I don't have much use for people, but I'm not about to go on a killing spree. It wouldn't let me. I'm supposed to preserve life, not destroy it.

It's been a while since I've been clearheaded enough to think about these things. Far too long of a while. He was right in thinking that I'd die soon if I kept drinking... I'd have died, but It would have lived on in my body. I don't want It having any more control over me than It already does, and without Yoh cutting me off I'd have lost what control I have of myself.

I should go thank Yoh, but I don't want to seem like I have some debt to him. It's a pain in the ass, having on to someone in your own family. I'll have to buy him a square watermelon or something... damned things are so expensive that it'll get him off my case... if he gets on my case about this. Which he probably won't.

My head hurts. Probably from thinking too much about this.

"I need a drink."

***

"Was it this crowded the last time we were here?" There are so many cars... whatever happened to the trains here?

Marco shakes his head slowly. "No. I can't believe that the population grew this much in so few years... DAMN IT! DON'T CUT IN FRONT OF SOMEONE LIKE THAT, IDIOT!" He swerves and slams his hand down on the horn, and I have to stifle a laugh. "Erm... I apologize for my language," he splutters out, blushing.

"It's all right." He's been so tense lately, it's better if he gets some of that out while driving.

He sighs. "I'm sorry for pulling you out of school again. I know you wanted to stay through a semester without leaving at all, but this situation needs to be adressed."

"If it's that bad, I don't mind."

He half-smiles. "You're starting to remind me of Meene. She'd always say something like that when things like this happened."

"Really?" I hope I don't sound too eager to hear about her life... it's my fault she's dead, after all. But for the time we knew each other, she was the closest thing to an older sister that I had. Why am I thinking so much about this? Didn't I grieve enough back then?

"Yes."

***

Somewhere a son has just lost his mother and father.

Sometime I've just died.

But no, I'm not dead. I don't think I am. Do you have a shape when you're dead?

What is this body? I'm not human?!

It hurts! Why does it hurt to exist? I don't like this! Liam, where are you? Help me!

"You are my servant."

I'm no one's servant, lower class or no! Why can't I speak?

"You will do as I tell you."

No, no I won't! I'm not a puppet! I'm a human being!

"Now speak."

"I'm not your slave! Stop this! Let me die!"

"No."

"Why? You let Liam die, why am I alive?"

"Your husband is dead beyond death. He's been devoured by the false king's steed."

"What?!" This voice isn't quite mine, either. It's mine, but raspy, like two pieces of unglazed tile rubbing together. Rubbing against my nerves, that is. I'm burning, burning alive....

"You heard me. Your husband is not able to be revived, Jean Diethel."

"No. That can't be true. He can't be gone... he wouldn't leave me...."

"I'm here, Jean. I'm here. He left you, but I didn't."

"No... no, Liam wouldn't leave me...."

"You are my servant, Jean Diethel. Obey me."

"No!"

"I said that you will OBEY ME!"

It's worse, like he's tearing my soul apart! "No! I won't be your slave! I won't!"

"Yes, you will. Because if you help me, I'll help you get your revenge...."

A door slams, outside of my line of sight.

The pain grows ever worse....

[Ssteiny]

well worth the wait. I like the train of thought in the third scene. I'm glad you focused on more serious situations. You have a good sense of humor, but I like the darkness of your drama. (not very good at critiquing literature am I, better at art )

[Useless]

Nice work again. I like the small humor you did in the first two section of this chapter, which is a good part of your writing. In all honesty, though, I kind of found the Jean Diethel part "overangsty", but that's just my view and I suppose you have to do something like that in order to stick her into the story. Again, I eagerly await future installments of this story.