Mended Hearts

Title: Mended Hearts
Author: UMI
Rated: PG-13
Summary: AU Naruto hides many secrets from Konohagakure no Sato. As time continues, Naruto’s precious people learn the hard way that many secrets are best left untouched, and that Naruto is not at all what they believed.

My first Naruto fic... Somehow I get the feeling that I'm not going to do very well in the Naruto fandom... But that's probably just me being stupid since I always say the same thinig, but peoplpe keep telling me that I did good. I'm rambling, so I think I'll just go away now...


Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. I wish I did, but I don’t.

Mended Hearts: Prologue

Euphoria: A Graduation Story

Euphoria: A Graduation Story


The sun is warm and bright, the skies are a clear azure, the air is filled with the chatter of excitement and the birds are singing merrily while on the field gathers a sea of red robes and caps adorned with red and white tassels and the many different colored chords…

To the dark haired girl, it seemed almost surreal…

Everywhere are the signs of a growing and changing generation, as the graduates lined up and laughed with friends and spoke with teachers. A soft breeze whispered past crimson polyester, whipping the robes around their feet, toying with the tassels and teasing loose hair. Everywhere was joyous cries and sparkling eyes as the exuberant spirits of the graduates soared and thickened the air with nervousness and excitement.

Soft strains of music drifted to expectant ears, and the chattering rose into whoops and cheers as they recognized the graduation song. One by one, they filed out into the stadium, passing under white arches festooned with flora under the light of the setting sun. The expectant expressions of joy and excitement tinged with agitation and more than a little fear and reluctance surrounded her, even as they moved to stand before their seats.

Time passed in a blur of names and applause as the speakers gave their speeches, named members of their clubs and organizations as the named graduates rose to their feet to be recognized. As the two Valadictorians gave their speeches and led the graduates in a cheer to celebrate their successes, she felt a blinding euphoria in her, and a desire for time to stand still at that singular moment, a moment when the entire Graduating Class stood together, yelling and screaming at the top of their lungs, smiles on their faces, mere moments away from true adulthood. All too soon, they were seated and she sat between two good friends, waiting and watching as other members of the class lined up, two rows at a time, one on both sides of the stage as each gradauate stepped forward to accept their awards.

Soon, it was nearly her turn, and she was acutely aware of the mass of bodies at her back. The faces of her audience were flesh colored blurs and her blood was a hot, roaring surge in her ears. She was aware of the cotton of her light sweater against her skin, of the coolness of her pink crystal beads around her neck, of the slight weight of her chandelier earrings in her ears, of the soft leater of her white shoes against her feet, and of the polyester gown covering her knuckles as she clasped her hands in front of her. Her face was frozen in a polite yet nervous smile of excitement, as her mind whirled about in a disorganized jumble of thoughts. She heard, as if from a long distance, her name being called, and in a daze she mounted the steps of the stage. Her surroundings took on a dreamlike quality and she misjudged the number of steps and stumbled as she mounted the stage. Her body shook like a leaf as she shook the Board Member's hand and accepted the cover for her diploma, and as she and the School Board Member turned to face the audience to have their pictures taken, she felt time stand still. Then, the camera flashed and she smiled was once more on the cool grass, the hem of her robes brushing over the plants as she returned to her seat.

She smiled as the ceremony continued, and ran her fingers softly over the imitation leather and the gold lettering spelling out the name of the school. Her eyes prickled, and she resolutely pushed her tears away. Now was not the time to cry. How would she beable to face the cameras if her face was red and tearstained with her eyes red and puffy from crying? Maybe after Grad Night, when it was safe, she would cry. She looked up and squared her shoulders, smiling happily and clapping with sincere joy and excitement as her friends' names were called, and they walked up to collect their own awards.

All too soon, the ceremony drew to a close. She, in her joy of passing a hurdle that her more cynical family members had always claimed she would never pass, threw her hat into the air with a joyful cry, her voice becoming one of many exuberent yells and cheers. She watched as it traveled a graceful arc and landed, and her sight was blocked by joyful friends with whom she joined in an embraced that conveyed a multitude of emotions from congratulations to joy to sadness of being parted after four glorious years of an unpredictable but close friendship. And then she was swept off with the crowd of red as they passed between two rows of teachers on their way to the field behind the stadium to pick up their diplomas, to say their last goodbyes or their last words of friendships, before being swept out onto the front lawn to meet with proud parents and sad underclassmen friends and departing classmates and to take their last pictures in their caps and gowns, with their newest accessory, their diplomas.

Inwardly, she mourned the loss of her cap, knowing that her parents would be upset, but the joy of graduation, and the melencholy of leaving her friends and all that had been familiar, of leaving the school that had become a second home to her, surged to the forefront as she and various friends embraced their former teachers.

"Merrily, merrily, merrily," she thought, smiling as she remembered the old nursery rhyme, "life is but a dream..."

She plunged into the heart of the crowd, and her cap was forgotten for the moment...


THE END

Missing You: A Graduation Story

This is another story that has nothing to do with the WHITE MAGE TALES. Graduation is comming up soon, so I thought this would be a fitting story for my current mood.

This is dedicated to all of my friends, Sanna, Sanchi, Yu Ying, Yu Yu, Pansy, Phyllis, Amy, Allen, Kenny, Wen, Tina, Dana, Mitsuki, Margret, Amy Leiu, Joyce, Amy Loung, Amy G, Kendrick, Kevin, Timothy, Vina, Michelle, Christine, Jeanette, Stephanie, Alex, Chris, Laine, Jeff, Peter, and Jan, who stood by me throughout my academic career. Thank you all for being there for me, when I needed you most, and I'll miss you all.




The dark haired girl sits wordlessly at the desk, her pen rapidly scribbling in the spiral bound notebook. She looks up at the clock occasionally, dark hazel eyes filled with excitement, longing, and deep sorrow. It is Friday, June 9, 2006, 2:27 PM. There is only ten minutes left before she, like her fellow Seniors would leave the campus for the last time as a student, only returning for cap and gown distribution, for the graduation rehearsal, and for the graduation ceremony itself.

She looks at the clock again. 2:30 PM. Seven more minutes. Seven more minutes of childhood, of sitting in the classrooms, echoing with laughter of previous students, seven more minutes before the echoes of the Graduating Class of 2006 becomes mere memories in the long beige halls, memories like the graduating classes before them, memories like the graduating classes that will come after them. It was almost time to go. Anita Wong, a Junior who sits beside her pulls out a camera.

“The only Senior in this class besides the Student Aide,” Anita said, “Lets take a picture!”

The girl smiles, and nods, as she and Anita leans toward one another. There is a few seconds where her heart leaps, and for a brief moment, the cold loneliness in her is replaced with a sense of belonging, of warmth of being with a friend. There is a flash, and she and Anita pulls apart, and she and Anita smile as they look at the picture on the screen. Anita smiles at her, and she smiles back, a sad smile tinged with warmth. Anita returns to her seat and turns to the boy behind her and strikes up a conversation while the girl turns back to her story, the warmth in her heart slowly being replaced by a creeping cold.

2:35, and she throws her things back into her bag and the teacher nods in permission and she runs out the door. The cold and pain is almost unbearable, and she runs to catch up with a friend, putting on a jovial mask. She whoops as the actual bell rings.

“Glad to be gone?” the boy asks.

“Yeah,” she answered as they run to the crosswalk. They say no more as they wait across the street for the bus.

The bus arrives at 2:40 as expected, and there is the usual jostling and pushing as students eager to get home board the bus. She is among the first ones to enter and take the seat nearest the door, and her face is a blank mask. She knows that this will be the last time she will be taking this bus as a student, and her chest tightens. She fights back tears as the bus leaves the stop. She gets off early, at the stop near the Senior Citizen Center, the quickest way home without riding the entire circuit. Her pace is brisk and almost desperate. She forbids herself to cry as she walks the familiar path.

She arrives home, and drops her things on the floor in the middle of her room. She sinks to her knees and buries her face in her hands, but she does not cry. Slowly, she gets back up and takes things out of her bag. The clothes from her Dance final goes in the hamper, her binders joins the collection on the floor beside her nightstand near her desk (she will go through them when her heart is less raw, she thinks), her yearbook and sketch pad goes on the shelf, and her notebooks joins the collection under her desk. The loose sheets go into folders and drawers and are placed with the binders and notebooks. Loose cash and change either go into her piggy banks or her wallet. Pens and pencils go into pencil cases in various parts of the room, the bag goes into her closet, her wallet, keys, and cell phone go on her nightstand, and the ipod goes into her drawers.

‘Keep moving, don’t think,’ she repeats to herself over and over, “don’t think, keep moving, don’t think!’

Maybe if she doesn’t think about it, if she keeps busy, she won’t remember that she is leaving behind her friends, and her surrogate family (classmates who took on different roles in the ‘family’ from various grades in the school), she won’t remember that she is leaving everything she once knew. Maybe she wouldn’t feel so sad, so lonely, so frightened, or so empty. The silence is too much, she turns on the music. After a while she turns it back off. The music on her computer is too lyrical, too sad, it reminds her too much of her pain and loneliness. She turns on the radio. After a while, she turns that off to. The upbeat music reminds her too much of the fun she had with her friends in her Dance Class, in Fifth Period. There is nothing left to do, there is nothing, and she feels the loneliness hit her full force. She forces back a scream of rage, loneliness, and pain, and forbids herself to cry. She throws herself into the internet, concentrating on the fanfiction, on her writing, on her drawings, anything to avoid reflection.

She does not check her email, she does not sign on into AIM or MSN. She doesn’t touch the phone except to call her mother to let her know that she is home. She doesn’t look at the yearbook, or at her old work.

Night falls, she stays up. She doesn’t want to sleep. She knows if she sleeps, her subconscious will force her to remember, but she hopes that sleep will allow her to escape, to not think, to not feel, to not remember. She does not realize it when she drifts off.

She wakes suddenly. She feels calm, warm, content. She remembers nothing, then she sits up and sees the pictures of her friends on her desk and she remembers. The pain and loneliness returns. She tries not to scream.

The day passes in a blur of meaningless work, of fanfics and writings. She immerses herself in a thick book that she had bought earlier in the year but had never read. She concentrates on her mother’s voice when she lectures her, anything to escape.

The next day is the same. There is nothing but a whirlwind of meaningless work and words to escape. She feels nothing, thinks of nothing, concentrates on nothing, she says nothing. Night falls. She does not sleep. She stares at the computer screen in the darkness until the words blur and she begins to hear echoes of laughter, she remembers snippets of old conversations with friends. She screams in her mind and slowly, she turns off the computer and goes to bed, squeezing her eyes shut.

She dreams of graduation. She dreams of being with her friends, they are happy, laughing, and she waves her diploma in the air and her friends hug her. She dreams of joyous lunch period long past, and of the hours of practice that went into the Dance Final, only for her to screw up in her best routine, Hip Hop, only for her friends to reassure her that it is alright. She feels the warmth of belonging.

Morning comes, and she wakes. Her heart is full and she does not try to run. She turns logs on to AIM and MSN and waits for her underclassmen friends to log on. She checks her email and leaves comments on the Xangas of the friends that she cannot reach on AIM or MSN or with email.

She leaves entries on her journals and cleans her room. There is nothing left for her to do. She stares out the window at the trees and plants in the garden. In the end, she allows herself to think, to reflect on the past year. Tears pool in her eyes, but still she does not allow them to fall. She holds them in her heart, and promises herself that they will not fall until the right time, until she knows that she will never have contact with her school friends again. She promises herself that she will let herself cry later, knowing deep inside herself that later will never come.

She sighs and begins planning what she will wear on graduation, what she will wear for Grad Night, what she will wear for the celebration on June 17, 2006. She plans what she will wear when her Aunt gets engaged on June 24, 2006. She plans and reflects on the past, but she moves forward.

She knows that all the other Seniors in the world is feeling the same way, and that all of them are moving forward. She knows that she will miss her friends and vice versa, and that she will never have friends like them again. She knows that the sadness will fade with time; after all, the sadness of her Eighth Grade Graduation had faded over the past four year.

She moves forward, and does not look back.


The End

Author's Note: In The Rain ((A Prince of Tennis Fanfic))

While I mostly write about the Rose Wars of my Alternate Universe called The White Mage Tales on this blog, I decided to take a chance and post one of my Fanfics here, especially since it's a het PoTfic, and its not something that I write often...

Title: In the Rain
Author:

lj-user kunoichiyumemi

Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairings: SanaOC
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Side story for Love Game and takes place after Imperial Temptations. Sanada and Kotori discuss the rain.

In The Rain

Chapter 3: P3 Tesseract

Chapter 3: P3 TESSERACT

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LESTRANGE POINT 3, COLONY VX239870, COLONIZATION ERA 167

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The man strode through the rubble, looking at the carnage around him. He had not expected the blast to destroy the residential area as well, and the sight of the orphanage and the burning cribs with the charred infantile bodies reeking of burnt flesh and wood made the bile rise up in his throat. Even after so many years in this profession, he found the scenes of carnage sickening, although his expression never changed from the cold sneer that was his trademark amongst the many assassins who could be found participating in the Seed Wars. Of course, he was no mere assassin. He was the assassin, codenamed Kenneth Highland, and the most wanted assassin in the entire Empire. No one knew who he really was, and if he had ever known his true name, he had forgotten it.

He paused, staring at the only thing standing, a beautiful archway of pink granite, chipped and scorched. This archway originally had led into a park, where the beautiful sakura trees from earth had been imported at initial construction of the park. No more. The Sakura were in flames, the smoke overpowering the delicate scent. A quiet footstep echoed through the carnage, and he turned, and stared at the toddler in front of him. The entire time he had been on this portion of the colony, a cat and a dog had been the only signs of life, yet even they died by the time he had drawn level to them. He had not expected for there to be any survivors, human or otherwise.

The boy looked up and whispered, “Anata wa… soko ni maska?”

Kenneth knew the moment the brown eyes blank from shock and glassy with unshed tears looked at him, that his life would never be the same again.

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ALFEA, COUNTY HYDE, COLONIZATION ERA, 175

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"Stay here, Kid," said a tall an with gold hair and grey eyes.

"Be careful," said a boy, only seven or eight years old with messy brown hair and cold prussian blue eyes. "You're getting old."

"None of your sassiness, now, Kid. Once I get Amarfi, we can get out of the business, and we'll settle down as a real family, and you'll get a name, alright?"

The boy nodded as he hefted onto his thin shoulder a missile launcher almost twice his size.

The man nodded coolly at the boy and walked away...

==========================================

"We shall not allow the rebels to run about, spouting obsenities about our bright kingdom! We who are loyal to the Federation shall bring the fools to their knees!" Nicol Amarfi bellowed.

His black hair, which fell to his shoulder blades were pulled into a high ponytail with a single braid on his left temple framing his face. His grey eyes shone with a fierce light, and his silk clothing in vibrant greens and golds shimmered in the cool glow of the napatha lights.

Beside him, stood his daughter, Serenity Amarfi, her black hair pulled back in a braid coronet, studded with clear stones. Her amber eyes, inherited from her late mother, were cool and blank, her pale face beneath the silver mask studded with white gems, gave no indication of her thoughts, and her lush red lips were set in a firm, yet demure line. Her reputation in court and among the people was reflected in her gown, a pale silver studded with clear stones and embroidered with silver. A silver chain hung around her pale, swan like neck, a diamond cut in the shape of a star nestled in the hollow of her throat, and silver rings dangled from her wrists while pearl drops hung from her ears.

Kenneth smirked as he observed the two nobles from his hiding spot in the unused balcony. The Lady Marquise, even at the tender age of fourteen, had truly earned her reputation as the Lady of Ice and Beauty in the Federation.

His eyes widened fractionally when he saw her sharp amber eyes sweep toward his hiding spot from behind her mask, and he ducked behind a pillar. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Perhaps the rumors about the young noblewoman’s secret genetic enhancement operations were true after all.

His eyes narrowed. If so, he would have only one chance to take out Nicol Amarfi before the genetically enhanced teen had him executed. He waited a few minutes until he was sure Serenity Amarfi was looking elsewhere before stepping out from behind the pillar and leveling his gun. He pulled the trigger back slightly, disabling the first safety. He started when he saw Serenity’s amber eyes moving, though her head did not, and zeroed in on the blonde assassin on the platform. He quickly pulled the trigger, and the young noblewoman’s eyes widened.

"Father!"

She leapt forward, in front of the podium, her arms spread wide, and jerked backwards, crimson blood blossoming over her pristine gown. She fell backwards into Nicol's shocked arms.

Kenneth swore as Serenity’s lips moved and Nicol and his main guard looked up, and he turned around and ran from the balcony, the gun still in his hand.

"Go!" Nicol snapped, his voice echoing throughout the chamber. "Bring him down!"

Kenneth knew at that moment as he heard the nobleman’s command that he wouldn’t get to see his surrogate son again.

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ALFEA, COUNTY HYDE, AMARFI PALACE, COLONIZATION ERA, 175

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"Kenneth Highland, you are found guilty of attempted murder against his excellency, Count Nicol Amarfi, and inflicting greivious bodily harm against her grace, Marquise Serenity Amarfi. You are hereby sentenced to death."

Kenneth Highland was led out onto the platform, blindfolded, dressed in nothing but the coarse black military trousers that he had worn when he had been captured. He knew his executers, five military gunmen stood in line in front of him, their rifles on their shoulders at parade rest.

While the herald read off the list of his crimes, Kenneth’s mind drifted toward the boy he had raised and trained for so long. He’d never given the child a name, no matter how dear the child was to him, he had refused to name him, in hopes that he could remain impersonal if the boy had no name. He wished quite vehemently at that moment, that he could at least see the boy one last time, and give him the name he had promised…

Johnathan Highland…

He heard the clicks of five safetys being disabled, and the roar of gunfire. Pain blossomed in his chest, and the image of a pair of blank brown eyes in a pale face with black hair flashed breifly in his mind’s eye.

“Anata wa… soko ni mas ga?”

The words echoed in his mind…

How he wished he could see the boy one last time…

“Boku wa… koko ni ru… da yo… Johnathan…” he whispered as the pain faded, and he drifted off in the cool embrace of death…


==========================================

The nameless boy watched as his guardian was executed. A strage prickling was starting up in his eyes, and he watched as the body fell, watched as the lips moved…

“Boku wa… koko ni ru da yo… Johnathan…”

Johnathan…

Was that the name he had promised?

The boy turned and walked away, his eyes blank. Johnathan… If it was the name that he was supposed to receive, then he would keep it, and use it, in the memory of the man who had raised him for as long as he could remember…

==========================================

“Hey, kid, you wanna become a Mecha Pilot?”

The boy looked at the old man and said, “Sure.”

The old man chuckled, a harsh grating sound. “Than come with me, boy, come with me.”

The boy followed the man.

==========================================


Neo-Lestrange Point Three, Sector F4, Colonization Era 180

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“P3. Target sighted. Beginning drop.”

“Affirmative P3. Begin Decent Phase One.”

“Yokai.”

Joseph Marsten, once the surrogate son of Kenneth Highland, worked silently, maneuvering the shuttle concealing his Mecha into the atmosphere. He spoke only to report on his progress, saying only what was necessary and no more, his voice toneless.

“Target in range. Tesseract in flight. Activating Hyper-Jammers.”

“Opening bay doors.”

“Yokai.”

Large metal doors in the lawn opened and P3 manuevered the Mecha into the hanger. The doors whirred shut over head, and the Mecha continued to descend into the darkness. There was a slight jerk as the Mecha's feet connected with the floor, abrubtly halting it's descent.

"P3 entry into safehouse 3 successful. Secondary report to be transmitted after Phase 1 of Operation Silverfish is underway."

"Yokai."

==========================================

TO BE CONTINUED...

Chapter 2: P2 ELLADAN

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Alfea Kingdom, Jakin Due Principality, Amarfi Palace, Petitioner's Hall, CE 175

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Lady Serenity Amarfi, Marquise of Jakin Due, Heir of Nicol Amarfi, Count of Hyde, and niece of Galdran Marlow, Emperor of the Alfea Empire, was well known for her generosity and for her youth and wisdom. It was well known that the Lady Marquise, as she was known to the public, was only ten, and already a powerful member of the Court. Despite her young age, she was already the jewel of the Court of the Empire, and there was no doubt, that, when she reached her majority in another two years, there would be no lack in suitors for the Lady. All of her petitioners knew that she liked to keep her petitioners amused and comfortable while they waited for their turn to lay their petition before her. Her own words were that if the petitioners felt welcome, they may be more inclined to trust the noble ruling them, and the people of Jakin Due were proud to admit that they did indeed trust the Lady Marquise to the point that they would follow her even into the fiery pits of Hell.

George Marsten, a beefy man, who was a silk merchant and a first generation GEN-HANT, felt differently, however. His family, being a family of Merchants, tended to move about with the Trading Caravan very often, and recently, almost two generations ago, the family had settled here in Jakin Due. The Merchants, namely the men folk, would leave, while the rest of the family remained in their home in the Principality. George had been appalled when he returned home from a trading excursion to find that the old Marquise had passed away, and her six year old daughter had taken over the Principality. As the years passed, he watched as his family became besotted with the young Marquise, and his anger toward the changes the child and her regent had wrought grew with a vengeance. And so, unbeknownst to his family, he joined a group of radical conservatives who wished to return the Principality to its former workings.

George Marsten smiled grimly, as he fingered the explosive charge in his pocket. Little more than three and a half U’gani (five and three fourths inches) in diameter, the charge had enough blaze balm inside to level the entire Audience Hall. He looked up as the Chamberlain flung the heavy double doors of oak and ebony inlaid with gold and silver with white stones open. He called for his son, ten year old Brandon Marsten, who trotted over to his father’s side. George rose to his feet and tugged his suit straight. Even though the young Marquise was about to die, there was no reason why he should not make a good impression, after all, children, especially ten year olds, tended to judge by appearances, even if they were noble born. He would soon realize how wrong he was to judge the Lady Marquise by the behavior of other children—by common children no less…

“Tradesman Marsten and son! Silk Merchants!” the Herald called.

“Come, boy,” George growled, and he strode through the doors.

“Yes, Papa,” Brandon replied, obediently trotting after his father.

At the tender age of ten, Lady Serenity Amarfi, Lady Marquise of Jakin Due, and Heiress to the County Hyde, was already one of the most influential people in the kingdom of Alfea. Her desire to rule her people, and rule well, was put to the test when she took over the Marquisate at the young age of six, after her mother, the Lady Marquise Selene Amarfi, died, and she passed with flying colors. Her regent, the twenty three year old Baron Wolfraim Fer Baigh, was one of her multitudes of cousins, and he had passed her every bill and decree with ease. By now, she had learned everything about ruling a principality that her father and cousin could teach her, and for experience, the Baron Fer Baigh, was allowing her to hold the Court on her own, under his supervision, of course.

Lady Serenity’s amber eyes tracked the silk merchant as he strode down the length of the hall from behind her mask. She sat stiffly in the chair on the dais, the light from the sky light glittering around her, causing the pale blue jewels in her hair, on her ears, and on her wrists, fingers, and around her neck to glitter. The ice blue silk shimmered, and the white stones and sapphires sewn onto her gown threw off the light in a plethora of rainbows. Her hair, bound in a high ponytail with seven braids curling around her head in a bun around the base of the ponytail, cast a dark and shimmering halo around her. Even with the upper portion of her face covered, the ten year old was radiant, and an air of authority, strength, wisdom, patience, maturity, and trustworthiness surrounded her. Her reputation, despite her young age, was well earned.

Her silk gloved fingers ran lightly over the crystal on her lap. Unbeknownst to her people or her fellow nobles, she had a gift, the gift of Sight and Empathy, to see through the haze of time to see what was, what could have been, what is, what may be, and what will be; and to feel what others felt, and to identify truth from lie, and good intent from ill. Her crystal, one that she kept with her at all times, was her main source of information, and what little she knew, she did not give away. It was the burden of her gifts that brought her quickly to maturity, and the constant maintenance of her gifts taught her to multitask, and retain and absorb information more quickly. Her amber eyes tracked the merchant and his son, and narrowed as the two bowed.

“Rise,” her voice was the soft and high voice of a child, but held the strength and authority of a noble woman fully grown.

George Marsten trembled at the intensity of the voice. During all of his past Audiences with the Lady Marquise, the regent had always been the one to speak, and now, for the first time, he was hearing the voice of the Lady Marquise, and he knew that he was wrong. This was no mere noble child, pampered and selfish. This was the progeny of Selene and Nicol Amarfi, and a GEN-HANT. He and his son rose from their bow.

“George Marsten, what troubles bring you to our Audience?” Serenity said, her voice echoing through the hall. Her amber eyes flashed behind her mask, and her tone was firm and cold while her posture had taken on the stiff alertness of a wild animal that senses danger and is preparing to flee.

Neither the Regent nor the Armsmen positioned around the Hall missed the signs of distress in the young Marquise, and subtly, the Regent moved closer to the Lady while the Armsmen moved closer to father and son, their hands on their sabers.

George Marsten swallowed nervously. He was all too aware of the Armsmen who had moved closer to them, and he could see the subtle shift in the atmosphere from welcoming yet businesslike, to tense and alert. Had his demeanor let something slip? He doubted it. The Lady’s voice cut through his thoughts and he jumped.

“Tradesman George Marsten,” Serenity repeated. Her voice was undoubtedly colder and less patient. “What troubles bring you to our Audience?”

George swallowed hard and began to speak.

Beside him, Brandon watched in awe as the Lady Marquise, who was the same age as him, speak with his father. She was as beautiful as everyone said she was, and he wondered about her.

Twenty minutes later, the audience ended, and as George Marsten and his son bowed, George took the small ball, and rolled it under toward the dais. The Merchant led his son out of the chamber swiftly. The charge had been set to detonate after a minute, so he had to get out before it went off…

“Lady Serenity!”

One of the Armsmen cried. He had recognized the charge for what it was. The Armsmen ushered the Regent and the Lady Marquise into the adjoining chambers just as the charge detonated. The three were thrown off their feet and were flung onto the floor. Serenity, on the other hand, being a child, and lighter than adults, was flung across the room by the blast, and she hit the wall with a sickening crack.

“Lady Serenity!”

The Regent and the Armsman got to their feet and ran over to the prone form of the Marquise.

“Lady Serenity!”

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Alfea, Jakin Due, Marsten House, Number 12, Enchantment Lane, CE 174

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“Mama! Mama!” Seven year old Alicia Marsten ran into the kitchen, the length of ribbon trailing from the bow on her pretty red frock fluttering behind her. She bounced on her feet, pointing out the window above the counter. “Mama! Look! Federation Soldiers!”

“Where?” Brandon Marsten, ran into the kitchen, and stared out the window. “Mother! They have guns, and they’re at the gate!”

“What?!” twenty four year old Alice Marsten spun away from the stove and stared out the window, and her face paled.

Her sister-in-law, twenty three year old Gretchen Marsten, said, “We need to get the children out of here…”

“Kami-sama…” Alice whispered. She shut off the stove and scooped up her children and ran for the stairs. She ran into the room the children shared and pulled out a bag, and threw in several jackets, slacks, shirts, under things, blouses, and skirts and jackets, slipping some of the money she had on her into the bags, and bundled her children up warmly. She led her children back downstairs, shoved the bag into Brandon’s hands and pushed them out the back door.

“Take your sister, Brandon, go out the door in the back of the garden. Don’t stay behind. Don’t go to any of our houses either,” Alice whispered, tears running down her face.

“Alice! They’re almost at the door!” Gretchen yelled from the living room.

“Mama?” Alicia asked.

“No, don’t waste time…” Alice said urgently. “Go, my precious… travel by night, and don’t let anyone see you, understand?”

“Mother?” Brandon said, “What’s going on?”

“Federation soldiers at the gate… every one’s worst night mare… your father is to blame, no doubt… he never did approve of the Lady…” Alice gasped as the sound of wood splintering and Gretchen screaming echoed through the house. “Go!”

“Mama!”

“Go!”

Brandon threw the backpack on and grabbed his sister’s hand and pulled her away form the house.

“Mama!” Alicia cried, tears welling in her eyes. “I don’t want to go! MAMA!!!”

“Alicia!” Brandon yelled, as he dragged her across the yard, “Mother will be fine!”

The gat had just closed behind them when the sound of gunfire was heard from inside the gate, and the screaming of the various family members still in the house began.

“MAMA!!!” Alicia screamed as tears fell down her face, “MAMA!!! MAMA!!! MMMAAAAMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!”

Brandon dragged his sister across the street, tears running down his face. They vanished down an alley, and once they were inside the basement of an unused house, Brandon pulled Alicia into a hug as they cried.

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Alfea, Jakin Due, Bellaza, Colonization Era (CE) 175

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“The Plague of Bellaza is still running rampant, the current toll is at fifty thousand infected, seventy thousand dead, and nine thousand immune. Scientists are currently working around the clock to find a cure. Until then, the quarantine on Bellaza and the surrounding country side in a thirty mile radius will remain in effect…”

A young boy with dirty chestnut brown hair and cobalt blue eyes glared at the thirty by twenty foot vid-screen mounted almost forty feet off the ground. His clothes, now dirty and ripped, were once of good quality.

“Oy! Brad!” a young girl called.

The boy, who was once Brandon Marsten, turned and looked at the girl, her black hair and grey eyes marking her as a native of Jakin Due. “What is it, China?”

“It’s Red, she’s sick.” China looked nervous. “It might be the plague… I mean, it’s every where, and with Bellaza in quarantine…”

“Whatever,” Brad said, stalking past her.

China didn’t follow him. The orphans on the street followed Brad, and trusted him, and they all knew better than to be in the vicinity where his sister was concerned.

=======================================

Brad stepped out of the run down warehouse silently, his face blank. There was a small bundle wrapped in a tattered sheet in his arms. He walked down the dark street silently, his steps soft and measured. He walked down the street and toward the city wall facing the sea. Wordlessly, he flung the bundle off the wall and down into the surf pounding against the cliff walls. He stood here, staring down at the sea, before turning away, his face blank, and walked back to the warehouse where the other orphans lived…

=======================================

The warehouse was burning, Brad could hear the screaming from where he stood. The food in his arms fell from limp hands to the floor, as the boy stood in a shocked stupor, watching the fire consume the very place he had called home for the past year, listening as the orphans who he had lived with scream in pain and terror. Then, the roof collapsed, sending flames into the sky, and the screaming stopped, and there was only the smell of burning wood and flesh.

Brad finally found his strength, and turned and left. There was nothing left for him in Bellaza. Perhaps it would be safe for him to enter the Capital…

=======================================

He couldn’t believe his good luck. He had run into and old man who was a bit eccentric, but had offered him a job, which included revenge against the Marquise of Jakin Due for her execution of her family through the overthrowing of the Federation and the disbanding of the Empire. He smiled grimly, and tugging at the collar of his new clothes, followed the old man onto the transport.

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Neo-Lestrange Point Two, Sector F4, Colonization Era 180

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“P2. Target sighted. Beginning drop.”

“Affirmative P2. Begin Decent Phase One.”

“Yokai.”

Brandon Marsten worked silently, maneuvering the shuttle concealing his Mecha into the atmosphere. He spoke only to report in his progress, and even then his words were clipped and curt.

“Target is in range. ELLADAN is in flight. Activating Hyper-Jammers.”

“Opening bay doors.”

“Yokai.”

Large metal doors in the lawn opened and P2 manuevered the Mecha into the hanger. The doors whirred shut over head, and the Mecha continued to descend into the darkness. There was a slight jerk as the Mecha's feet connected with the floor, abrubtly halting it's descent.

"P2, entry into safehouse 2 was successful. Next report will be transmitted after Phase 1 of Operation Silverfish is underway."

"Yokai."

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TO BE CONTINUED...

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Yokai -- Roger

In the previous chapter… 1 D’ARCY is 4 miles and 1 DEARKA is 25 miles per hour.

Chapter 1: P1 ELVIRA

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Alfea, Jakin Due Principality, Amarfi Palace, Colonization Era, 178

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The sun slid silently behind the horizon as two horsedrawn carriages rumbled up the sweeping drive, passing beneath the white archway reinforced with diamond and steel, decorated with celtic circles. The carriages bore the emblem of a single red rose and a beautiful longsword, clutched in the talons of a swan rising in flight; the crest of Serenity Amarfi, Countess of Hyde, Marquise of Jakin Due, and Vice Foreign Minister of the Alfea High Council. The carriages rumbled to a halt in front of the sweeping marble steps and the wide open Cherrywood double doors with the crest carved in the center of an elaborate celtic sun.

The door of the first carriage opened, and Serenity stepped out, her raven locks capturing the waning light of the sun, and reflecting the light around her head in a shimmering halo. Her navy blue traveling gown was crisp and the sapphires on her throat and on her ears glittered while the silk gloves shimmered in the light. Her blue satin mask shimmered in the sun, the light glittering off the blue stones that decorated the edge. She raised her pale face to look at the palace that had been her primary home ever since her majority two years ago.

At fourteen, she was the most powerful and influential person in the kingdom, second only to her father, and third to the Emperor. She was also the most powerful Gen-hant in existance, as she was a first generation Gen-hant, and the only one ever know to hold public office. Her lips twitched at the corners and her amber eyes shone with a fierce light.

Holding her head high, she stepped toward the doors as the servants, lined along the steps and the drive, dressed in crisp black, blue and white, the colours of her House, bowed or curtsied. She glided up the steps, her movements cool and stately, and the servants did not rise until she was past. She stepped into the cavernous cool of the foyer, and allowed the court mask to fade, and the icy haughtiness in her demeanor faded into a warm and welcoming air. She was home.

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"Mecha01, online. All systems green."

"Simulation Mission DLX9206, proceed."

"Yokai."

It had been three years since Serenity had begun her training to become P1, and already she had become a strong fighter. She didn't delude herself into thinking that she was ready for the current mission, but her task was important. Although not a part of Operation Silverfish, the launch that would send all six Mechanoid Pilots to a private Academy in Celindon for the sole purpose of destroying the six bases on the Anglian peninsula, it was vital for their safe arrival. Being the only one out of the six pilots who could be anywhere near the Anglian continent without drawing suspiscion, Serenity had been chosen for the mission. She was in most danger of being identified, since she was such a prominent person, but there was not much choice.

"Seigfreid Cannons, online. Firing Faulkner Rifles."

She would enter Celindon, and enroll in the Kopperia Academy for Young Ladies, scout out the area, and secure the eight safehouses in the Celindon city of Selby and meet with the twentyfour allies hidden in the city. Once that was done, she would remain in Celindon for a full Quarter (Two months) before returning to Jakin Due. After that, she would not return to Celindon until Operation Silverfish in another two years.

"Targets 07, 08, 09, decimated. Seven targets remaining. Seigfreid Cannons, targeting."

"P1, we're inputting twenty more targets."

"Yokai."

Serenity's hands flew over the controls, her attention on the simulation. A portion of her mind, however, was turned inward. She had never told her father of her feelings toward the Empire's treatment of the rebels that they had captured...

Her father, she had no doubt, would be horrified at the very thought of his daughtere's rebel sympathies. If Nicol ever found out about the path upon which she was choosing to walk, she knew that she would never see the light of day until the war had ended, and even then, the servants in her household would be riddled with spies.

No.

She shook away the thought. There was no time for such dark thoughts. Serenity's finger tightened on the trigger.

"Firing Seigfreid Cannon," she intoned.

On screen, dozens of explosions were shown as the simulator's cannon fired.

"Enemy decimated. Ninmou kanryou."

"Well done, Lady," the voice said over the com-link and a holo-screen popped up. The woman on the creen was a handsome woman, her green-black hair accented her dusky skin, and her garnet eyes stood out like rubies. "Ten minutes and forty-seven seconds... Five minutes faster than the last practice. You've improved greatly."

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Anglia Continent, Celindon, Selby, Colonization Era 178

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"Safehouse five secure. P1, pulling out."

"Yokai. Move on to Safehouse six."

"Yokai."

Serenity Amarfi, dressed in black riding leathers and a Armani trenchcoat, left the safehouse and made her way over to the black unregistered motorbike that had been provided for her by the Kopperia Academy contact. She hopped on, slipped the helmet on over the black mask, started it up, and roared down the street.

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Neo-Lestrange Point One, Sector F4, Colonization Era 180

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"This is P1, MECHA 01 is on top of the target."

"Initiate drop, P1."

"Initiating atmospheric descent sequence. Unfolding Welle Sheild. Entering Descent Phase 1."

The shuttle slipped nose first into the atmosphere, and slowly began to pick up speed.

"Speed at 97 Dearkas. Initiating Phase 2 of Descent Sequence."

The shuttle leveled out in the atmosphere. As the shuttle became redhot, the wings were ejected from the sides of the shuttle.

"Speed at 121 Dearkas. Ejecting first layer of Malfoci covering."

Large square peices of the shuttle's outer shell peeled off and burnt up as they fell.

"132 Dearkas. Ejecting second layer."

More peices of the shuttles outer shell came off, this time, they were thinner than the first layer.

"142 Dearkas. Ejecting final layer of Malfoci covering."

The final layer of the white metal was ejected, revealing a humanoid machine underneath with its white metal wings wrapping it in a protective cocoon. This was the Mechanoid 01, ELVIRA.

"ELVIRA is spreading her wings."

The wings spread, and the Mecha's descent slowed.

"Activating hyper-jammers."

"Approaching target."

A large house appeared under them, and inside the cockpit, the pilot began inputting instructions. The Mecha began to slow.

"Bay doors are opening for you, P1."

"Affirmative."

Large metal doors in the lawn opened and P1 manuevered the Mecha into the hanger. The doors whirred shut over head, and the Mecha continued to descend into the darkness. There was a slight jerk as the Mecha's feet connected with the floor, abrubtly halting it's descent.

"This is P1 reporting in, entry into safehouse 1 was successful. Next report will be transmitted after Phase 1 of Operation Silverfish is underway."

"Yokai."

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TO BE CONTINUED...

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Yokai -- Roger

Ninmou kanryou-- Mission Complete

Malfoci -- A metal that is near indestructable, with high boiling and melting points, usually solid at room tempereature and can only be made in the zero gravity of space. Covered in a coating of liquid diamond, once hardened, is coated with adamantine. In order to get to the Malfoci armour, the meter thick protective coatings would have to be completely destroyed.

KOTORI TENOU here! You've finally made it to chapter one, congradulations!

Look for Chapter 2: P2 ELLADAN