I suppose that's the thing behind fanfiction. When one knows the story too well or does not know the story very well and is not able to learn much, one makes up one's own stories.
My case is the latter. I don't know too much about Bloody Roar, but I am a fan nonetheless. I take what I know from my little gaming experience, fanfiction, a reliable friend, and other such stuff and do fanstuff.
A rather nutty story formed in my head. I decided to let it out before it morphed into something too strange. Anyhow, I have experience from Gundam Wing fanficcing, and it's time I fanficced once more.
I hope you don't mind my Alternate Universe story.
It was a few minutes after midnight. Hardly a window was lit in any of the houses of the semi-suburban neighborhood which lived in the shadow of a condensed city. The night was silent and the sky was dark and the stars were clear. Surely everyone was fast asleep.
If only people knew the kinds of battles that could be fought in complete silence.
A note had been left by he who hired them: "Midnight marks your death."
Indeed, his heart had been torn in two just as the first midnight bell chimed.
What the silent assassins did not know was their victim's people had a similar weapon up its sleeve. And now, on the rooftops of unsuspecting people's houses, blows were exchanged, attempts at bloodshed were made through the night as the two sides travelled across the residential block, their battle ever travelling. A death to one side would be a victory, as it would reveal its clan if the body was not removed.
His skill is waning, the master thought to himself. He watched a certain youth and noted how his consciousness faded in and out. A lack of conscious thought proved helpful in fighting, but something else was disappearing. The rest of the lad's mind was losing touch with the world as well. Without this input, instincts could not help him. Besides, he reminded himself, this child will succeed me someday and take my place. How could he skillfully lead the Clan of the Soil if he could not think?
Perhaps that was their aim.
Now was not the time to think of combating treachery. He noted the boy looking like he took a small injury, but it was nothing. Besides, he had been trained to resist poison, if there was any used. He moved along with the travelling battle until, somehow, somewhere, it ended. Whatever happened, the master's heir was not there to witness it.
"Master, the young dragon is missing," one of the ninja reported.
The master bowed his head and contemplated searching for him. He decided the thank the clan's exclusive clients for once and took out a small plastic device. Unfortunately, the receiving end was unable to be equipped with a tracking device without having such an implant being detected by other sensors.
It was time to put this invention to use. It had been a long time since the "young dragon" had had practice in his clan's exclusive hiding technique, the origin of the title "Clan of the Soil." Surely he could pass a test like this by now and be able to return safely, unless he got into more trouble. Then again, he was probably conditioned enough by now to avoid trouble. Then again, what if his conditioning got in the way?
He had a feeling something was wrong with the corrections made those times.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Young Dragon! You will never be ready if you cannot beat me. I don't care what's broken. Get up!"
"Why do you look so sad? Are you lost?"
"Dammit! Don't you understand how frustrating this is for me?! Speak to me! Say something. I beg you! Speak!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Death coursed through he veins as he attempted to sit up. He remembered the poisonous barb puncturing his arm that night, and trying to follow in his drowsiness, but finding he was headed in the wrong direction, and then falling into a patch of bushes and being scraped everywhere by the stiff, pointed leaved. Then, he recalled the twitching in his body and the stiffening in his fingers. He figured it was paralysis brought on by the poison before he passed out.
Just bringing back all that nearly caused him to blank out yet again. Using his brain was so difficult and his memory of anything was atrocious, especially if killing was involved. Once he was fixed on killing and his missions, everything seemed to fade out and the smallest portion of his mind controlled him. His faulty memory had upset the Master so much lately...
He made another attempt at moving, but the injuries and poison made this very difficult. It was then he realized his body had changed. He felt for his clothes and was certain of it: he had transformed without realizing it. The oversized scarf told him he was now a mole, a normal, tiny, mole.
What time was it? How long had he been lying there? It was so hard to see, and he could not remember his eyesight being this bad in his mole form. Perhaps the poison had taken out his eyesight? True, master had once been blind before they fixed that, but he was not ready to be a blind ninja!
Whatever was wrong, he needed to hide out. The heat told him it was daytime, so he had no time to waste. He painfully dragged himself out of the bushes to find concrete, and was thus forced to drag himself in the opposite direction. When he slipped under the fence, he encountered grass and soil. This was perfect. Now, if only he could get his body to dig....
A gasp. His clothes should have been hidden well in the bushes, but then again, he could not check with his eyes.
"You'd better leave it alone, sis. It looks like its dying. Might be rabid, too."
"But I can't just leave it there."
The breeze shifted direction in his favor and the scents of a mature and a younger female human met his nose. He was already getting used to being blind, like many moles.
Vibrations in the ground signalled to his paws that one of them was leaving. Next were more rapid footsteps of the other, and the same rapid footsteps came back not too much later.The smell of the younger one became stronger and he felt a handkerchief surround him and hands holding him. His world bounced up and down and sped towards one direction and doors open and shut. He was set down on a desk as the female human set about to making much noise fumbling around. The next thing he knew, the hands grasped him again and lowered him into soft tissues and cotton balls with the handkerchief pulled over him as a blanket.
"You should at least die in a warm, safe place. What are you anyway? Are you a mole? If you are, Alice is always accusing you of eating her tulip bulbs. I keep on telling her I read it's mice using your tunnels, but she doesn't believe me. But don't let that bother you. I wonder what hurt you like that? Do moles fight each other? Oh, look at me! I'm talking to a rodent!"
She sighed and stroked the mole's back covered with the handkerchief. "Have a nice rest. I have to go to school. Perhaps I'll get you something to eat when I get back."
Her hours at school gave him much time to think on his own as his body became accustomed to the poison. Had not something like this once happened before? Some time before, had not somebody found him and taken him in and taken care of him? This seemed very familiar. Still, he had to go back. The master would find him eventually, and then... and then.... Right. The master would do what he always did when he failed him, and then he would take him to The Doctor. Following this would be his flights into and out of reality.
Who was The Doctor? Why did that very term send a shiver down his spine?
When the girl returned she dropped a handful of earthworms into his box before immediately racing for the bathroom sink. She also tucked a few dandelions into his bedding.
As she did her homework, she found herself talking to her patient about school and her friends and evil subjects and teachers. How intriguing. The mole had none of these things, aside from a single teacher, his master. He had never had a "chemistry teacher," or "essays," or "comic books." Fascinating. Were all the other victims like this?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was night once more. The clock struck twelve and something in his body told him something was a little odd. He realized what it was and knew the regimen as he had heard of it from somewhere. The bare form of a muscular yet unusually slender human body covered in many thin scratches found its way to the window and managed to find the outfit left in the next door yard. He returned indoors and started to dress himself to prepare for a long night of navigating back home.
He remembered the girl when he realized a familiar smell was affecting him a different way. He did identify her age by her pheromones earlier that day, after all. The ninja decided to use a little trick, almost a kind of hypnosis, used to get information from unsuspecting sleeping individual, which he had seen before and even attempted once or twice. He carefully became very close to her and listened to her breathing to make sure she was in the right kind of sleep. He very silently whispered many things in her ear to bring her to talk to him.
"Can you hear me?"
"Yes."
"Good. I want to thank you for taking me in. I was going to leave just now."
"Hn. Don't go."
"What's that? You know who I am?"
I guess I'm not doing a very good job, he thought to himself.
"Who are you?"
"This isn't supposed to happen. I'm the one asking questions. Who are you?"
"I'm Uriko. Uriko Nonomura. Pleased to... meet you..."
Were the subjects supposed to say that?
"Our meeting is short, as I am to be leaving shortly. You could never understand. Your dear pet must say farewell now. As summer turns to autumn, all things must cease to be and die."
"Don't say things like that... You're too young and handsome..."
Handsome? She had not even seen his human face!
"Don't die..." she continued to mumble, "I took good care... don't die..."
He listened to her curiously. Did she know?
"Then again.. I am still rather hurt. Could you take care of me a little longer? Your pet shall live, do not worry, and you can continue to tell him all those interesting stories you have to tell. Good night, Uriko."
He stood up to return to his box when he heard his subject's voice.
"Who are you?" She asked him once more.
The ninja turned towards the voice and thought of what he could be called.
"Someone... long ago... once called me 'Kenji.' I think."
"G'night Kenji," she slurred before snoring loudly.
My case is the latter. I don't know too much about Bloody Roar, but I am a fan nonetheless. I take what I know from my little gaming experience, fanfiction, a reliable friend, and other such stuff and do fanstuff.
A rather nutty story formed in my head. I decided to let it out before it morphed into something too strange. Anyhow, I have experience from Gundam Wing fanficcing, and it's time I fanficced once more.
I hope you don't mind my Alternate Universe story.
It was a few minutes after midnight. Hardly a window was lit in any of the houses of the semi-suburban neighborhood which lived in the shadow of a condensed city. The night was silent and the sky was dark and the stars were clear. Surely everyone was fast asleep.
If only people knew the kinds of battles that could be fought in complete silence.
A note had been left by he who hired them: "Midnight marks your death."
Indeed, his heart had been torn in two just as the first midnight bell chimed.
What the silent assassins did not know was their victim's people had a similar weapon up its sleeve. And now, on the rooftops of unsuspecting people's houses, blows were exchanged, attempts at bloodshed were made through the night as the two sides travelled across the residential block, their battle ever travelling. A death to one side would be a victory, as it would reveal its clan if the body was not removed.
His skill is waning, the master thought to himself. He watched a certain youth and noted how his consciousness faded in and out. A lack of conscious thought proved helpful in fighting, but something else was disappearing. The rest of the lad's mind was losing touch with the world as well. Without this input, instincts could not help him. Besides, he reminded himself, this child will succeed me someday and take my place. How could he skillfully lead the Clan of the Soil if he could not think?
Perhaps that was their aim.
Now was not the time to think of combating treachery. He noted the boy looking like he took a small injury, but it was nothing. Besides, he had been trained to resist poison, if there was any used. He moved along with the travelling battle until, somehow, somewhere, it ended. Whatever happened, the master's heir was not there to witness it.
"Master, the young dragon is missing," one of the ninja reported.
The master bowed his head and contemplated searching for him. He decided the thank the clan's exclusive clients for once and took out a small plastic device. Unfortunately, the receiving end was unable to be equipped with a tracking device without having such an implant being detected by other sensors.
It was time to put this invention to use. It had been a long time since the "young dragon" had had practice in his clan's exclusive hiding technique, the origin of the title "Clan of the Soil." Surely he could pass a test like this by now and be able to return safely, unless he got into more trouble. Then again, he was probably conditioned enough by now to avoid trouble. Then again, what if his conditioning got in the way?
He had a feeling something was wrong with the corrections made those times.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Young Dragon! You will never be ready if you cannot beat me. I don't care what's broken. Get up!"
"Why do you look so sad? Are you lost?"
"Dammit! Don't you understand how frustrating this is for me?! Speak to me! Say something. I beg you! Speak!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Death coursed through he veins as he attempted to sit up. He remembered the poisonous barb puncturing his arm that night, and trying to follow in his drowsiness, but finding he was headed in the wrong direction, and then falling into a patch of bushes and being scraped everywhere by the stiff, pointed leaved. Then, he recalled the twitching in his body and the stiffening in his fingers. He figured it was paralysis brought on by the poison before he passed out.
Just bringing back all that nearly caused him to blank out yet again. Using his brain was so difficult and his memory of anything was atrocious, especially if killing was involved. Once he was fixed on killing and his missions, everything seemed to fade out and the smallest portion of his mind controlled him. His faulty memory had upset the Master so much lately...
He made another attempt at moving, but the injuries and poison made this very difficult. It was then he realized his body had changed. He felt for his clothes and was certain of it: he had transformed without realizing it. The oversized scarf told him he was now a mole, a normal, tiny, mole.
What time was it? How long had he been lying there? It was so hard to see, and he could not remember his eyesight being this bad in his mole form. Perhaps the poison had taken out his eyesight? True, master had once been blind before they fixed that, but he was not ready to be a blind ninja!
Whatever was wrong, he needed to hide out. The heat told him it was daytime, so he had no time to waste. He painfully dragged himself out of the bushes to find concrete, and was thus forced to drag himself in the opposite direction. When he slipped under the fence, he encountered grass and soil. This was perfect. Now, if only he could get his body to dig....
A gasp. His clothes should have been hidden well in the bushes, but then again, he could not check with his eyes.
"You'd better leave it alone, sis. It looks like its dying. Might be rabid, too."
"But I can't just leave it there."
The breeze shifted direction in his favor and the scents of a mature and a younger female human met his nose. He was already getting used to being blind, like many moles.
Vibrations in the ground signalled to his paws that one of them was leaving. Next were more rapid footsteps of the other, and the same rapid footsteps came back not too much later.The smell of the younger one became stronger and he felt a handkerchief surround him and hands holding him. His world bounced up and down and sped towards one direction and doors open and shut. He was set down on a desk as the female human set about to making much noise fumbling around. The next thing he knew, the hands grasped him again and lowered him into soft tissues and cotton balls with the handkerchief pulled over him as a blanket.
"You should at least die in a warm, safe place. What are you anyway? Are you a mole? If you are, Alice is always accusing you of eating her tulip bulbs. I keep on telling her I read it's mice using your tunnels, but she doesn't believe me. But don't let that bother you. I wonder what hurt you like that? Do moles fight each other? Oh, look at me! I'm talking to a rodent!"
She sighed and stroked the mole's back covered with the handkerchief. "Have a nice rest. I have to go to school. Perhaps I'll get you something to eat when I get back."
Her hours at school gave him much time to think on his own as his body became accustomed to the poison. Had not something like this once happened before? Some time before, had not somebody found him and taken him in and taken care of him? This seemed very familiar. Still, he had to go back. The master would find him eventually, and then... and then.... Right. The master would do what he always did when he failed him, and then he would take him to The Doctor. Following this would be his flights into and out of reality.
Who was The Doctor? Why did that very term send a shiver down his spine?
When the girl returned she dropped a handful of earthworms into his box before immediately racing for the bathroom sink. She also tucked a few dandelions into his bedding.
As she did her homework, she found herself talking to her patient about school and her friends and evil subjects and teachers. How intriguing. The mole had none of these things, aside from a single teacher, his master. He had never had a "chemistry teacher," or "essays," or "comic books." Fascinating. Were all the other victims like this?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was night once more. The clock struck twelve and something in his body told him something was a little odd. He realized what it was and knew the regimen as he had heard of it from somewhere. The bare form of a muscular yet unusually slender human body covered in many thin scratches found its way to the window and managed to find the outfit left in the next door yard. He returned indoors and started to dress himself to prepare for a long night of navigating back home.
He remembered the girl when he realized a familiar smell was affecting him a different way. He did identify her age by her pheromones earlier that day, after all. The ninja decided to use a little trick, almost a kind of hypnosis, used to get information from unsuspecting sleeping individual, which he had seen before and even attempted once or twice. He carefully became very close to her and listened to her breathing to make sure she was in the right kind of sleep. He very silently whispered many things in her ear to bring her to talk to him.
"Can you hear me?"
"Yes."
"Good. I want to thank you for taking me in. I was going to leave just now."
"Hn. Don't go."
"What's that? You know who I am?"
I guess I'm not doing a very good job, he thought to himself.
"Who are you?"
"This isn't supposed to happen. I'm the one asking questions. Who are you?"
"I'm Uriko. Uriko Nonomura. Pleased to... meet you..."
Were the subjects supposed to say that?
"Our meeting is short, as I am to be leaving shortly. You could never understand. Your dear pet must say farewell now. As summer turns to autumn, all things must cease to be and die."
"Don't say things like that... You're too young and handsome..."
Handsome? She had not even seen his human face!
"Don't die..." she continued to mumble, "I took good care... don't die..."
He listened to her curiously. Did she know?
"Then again.. I am still rather hurt. Could you take care of me a little longer? Your pet shall live, do not worry, and you can continue to tell him all those interesting stories you have to tell. Good night, Uriko."
He stood up to return to his box when he heard his subject's voice.
"Who are you?" She asked him once more.
The ninja turned towards the voice and thought of what he could be called.
"Someone... long ago... once called me 'Kenji.' I think."
"G'night Kenji," she slurred before snoring loudly.