Post by Nicholas Gray on Aug 26, 2015 21:20:01 GMT -6
Oshima was in fantastic spirits.
Sure, he still had no feeling in almost his entire left arm, only able to move his hand, the rest of the arm a dead weight confined to a sling.
But there was so much to put him in a good mood, as he walked through the forest.
He hadn’t put his own feet to the Earth in so long.
Sure, he had his projection, but for all the sensations it transmitted back to him, it didn’t transmit the little things. The feeling of the wind on his face, the smell of the grass, the feeling of branches brushing against his body as he walked. There was something deeply calming about it, that put a smile on his face.
Well. That and the fact that he was going to awaken the Grim Reaper of Fate.
The hitman that was cursed to destroy anything that stood in the way of Fate’s favored Path coming to pass. He who was Made in Heaven.
Oshima’s dearest friend.
It had been an eternity since they had last seen each other. The last time had been when he watched as a blade went into the reaper’s heart. That didn’t kill the Reaper, because those cursed like they were couldn’t die, but it did drain all of his energy. He had to go rest in his crypt, to regenerate his energy, sleeping until the day his skills were needed again.
He was happy, really, that his friend was able to get the rest he deserved.
But he’d still never forgive the bastard that caused that.
He stepped past the last trees, and found himself in a clearing, perfectly circular. The ground here was barren, incapable of growing anything. He smiled looking at it. He walked forward, almost to the center, before stopping. Here he lay, waiting to be awoken. All he had to do now was summon the entrance.
So he raised his right hand and, as he did, he pressed his fingertips against his palm, until his nails pierced his flesh. Oshima turned his fist so the blood would flow down to the ground, and moved his hand so a line of blood appeared on the ground. He took a few steps back, and then clapped his bleeding right hand against his immobile left hand.
It was like a spark was set off.
The ground shook, as stone began to push up through the ground. An entrance way began to come into view, clumps of dirt falling away as a large stone arch appeared.
The Grim Reaper’s crypt was open.
Oshima began his descent.
As he stepped down the stone steps, torches began to light up, giving light to his path. He began to take the steps quicker and quicker, his excitement mounting. He practically leapt off the stairs at the end, bypassing the last step entirely, starting to run forward to the center of the crypt.
And he stopped in his tracks.
He remembered how the Reaper looked when he was put to sleep. He sat on his stone throne, arms on the armrests, head against the back of it, looking like a man asleep.
This was not how he was now.
He was slumped down more in the throne, arms splayed out, head lolled to one side.
The wound over his heart was rotting.
Oshima rushed forward to where the throne was, grabbing the Reaper with his good arm and hefting him up to a sitting position. When he touched him, he felt no spark. No reaction. Nothing. He shook him. Once, then another time, and more times after. But still nothing. He couldn’t deny it.
The Grim Reaper was dead.
--
Eons Past…
Oshima leaned against one of the walls of the crypt, looking down at the fallen Reaper. He laid on his side on the cold stone floor, the armor he had been wearing before now torn to shreds, cuts and slashes and stabs, all fresh, littered his body, bleeding copiously. He had been warned that the garrison of warriors they were looking after needed to complete every kill they intended to, but the moment the Reaper saw the child in their path, he’d stepped in. Despite the command against it, he saved the child. Now, it had no Fate, and the Reaper had to be punished for that. Again. Oshima sighed.
Shinji Oshima: Nigami…
The Reaper, Shin Nigami, made only a faint pained noise to show he was listening.
Shinji Oshima: When will you stop this? When will you stop fighting your Fate?
The first response he got was a wet laugh, and Oshima was impressed he managed to get it past all the blood coming from his mouth. Nigami’s hand pressed against the ground and started to push himself up. He shook his head, spraying little drops of blood as he did.
Shin Nigami: Do I breathe?
Shinji Oshima: Despite your best efforts.
Shin Nigami: Then I’ll continue.
Oshima’s expression changed to one of exasperation.
Shinji Oshima: Will you stop?! All you’re doing is causing yourself more torture! Those people are not worth your time, or your consideration! You’re the Grim Reaper appointed by Fate! So let them just die!
Nigami shook his head again.
Shin Nigami: No. It’s not right.
Shinji Oshima: We’re not allowed to care about right and wrong.
Nigami laughed.
Shin Nigami: Of course we are. We live, do we not?
Oshima looked around the barren stone tomb.
Shinji Oshima: This is a life?
Shin Nigami: You’re too cynical, my friend. You’ve let her beat you down too much.
Shinji Oshima: I just accept what I’ve become. I’m the Seer.
Shin Nigami: You’re more than that.
Shinji Oshima: No. I’m not. And neither are you.
Nigami sighs.
Shin Nigami: I know you’ve been cursed for so much longer than I, but you can’t agree with this. Making sure what she wants occurs, no matter the cost of happiness or life to others. This isn’t how Fate should work.
Shinji Oshima: And yet, it is. What she wants, she gets. And she wants you in line. She wants you beaten.
Shin Nigami: Never. There’s only one way that would happen. You’d know when she’s beaten me…
Shinji Oshima: And when’s that?
Even with all the time that has passed since then, Oshima had never seen an expression so...certain.
Shin Nigami: When I’m dead.
--
For some moments he simply stared at the corpse of his best friend. He realized, distantly, that there was heat on his face from tears. He hadn’t cried in so long, not since the night he was cursed. But for the Grim Reaper, he shed tears. And then his body stiffened.
He realized suddenly that she was standing there behind him.
F: What a nice reunion you have here.
Shinji Oshima: ...why….
A chuckle.
F: Well, you know how Nigami was. He wanted to rebel, he wanted to not listen to what I ordered of him, he wanted to be the good decent man he was raised to be. Which is hilarious, since we know what raised him. Him and the one who killed him.
Oshima said nothing, not able to find words.
F: I could have let him die then, of course. But obviously then I’d not know when I’d get a suitable replacement for him. When the next idiot who changes Fate will come along to become cursed.
He felt a hand pat him on the shoulder.
F: And I have you to thank for that.
Oshima blinked in confusion, before his eyes went wide, head turning to look at her with horror.
F: Five years ago, you found not only your own replacement...but Nigami’s too.
Shinji Oshima: No…
F: Yes. So with him around, I had no need for Nigami, did I? Besides, you don’t have time for more than one true friend, with your busy schedule.
Oshima says nothing again, head turning to look back at Nigami’s body, blankly.
F: So be a good Seer and get back to your work. Forget Nigami. And wait for the day I call upon your new friend to join you.
For a moment he’s silent. And then, he speaks.
Shinji Oshima: I refuse.
F: ...excuse me?
Shinji Oshima: I refuse.
He stands up, suddenly, and reaches forward with his good arm. He grasps Nigami’s body and brings it close to him, clutching it to him. He feels cuts begin to open on his back, but he ignores them. His eyes go out of focus, as he looks for where he needs to be. He sees it, and a moment later vanishes, taking the body with him.
She watches him vanish. He had rebelled, just like Nigami would. Now he would do something stupid, and create ripples that would change several Paths.
Just like she wanted.
She walked over to the throne and took a seat, one leg crossing over the other.
F: Oh, I wonder how this will turn out....
Fate laughs, as what She desires come to pass.
--
He had been typing for what felt like days now. Line after line of code, attempting to change 0s and 1s into thoughts and actions. But every time he felt like he was on the verge, it would break apart. Error after error would flash on the screen, and he would be back to square one, back to typing out line after line of code, hoping that this time he would finally make the final breakthrough.
The shell had been prepared for him, every motor and gear put together perfectly for this purpose. But there was no engine, no mind to guide it yet. Just error after error.
He didn’t even hear him appear. It was the sound of a cleared throat that alerted him, with him turning in his seat so fast, hand moving to a gun clipped to his belt. But he stopped, at the truly bizarre sight in front of him.
An Asian man in a suit, his left arm in a sling, blood dripping onto the floor from what he assumed were wounds on his back, clutching what was obviously a corpse to his body with his free arm. His pupils wide, eyes darting around, hand twitching. The man smiled at him, and there was something deeply wrong with it.
Shinji Oshima: I understand you’ve been having problems with the mind. I have your solution.
For a moment he pressed his hand against the grip of the gun at his belt...and then his hand fell away. The man with the arm sling smiled wider.
Shinji Oshima: I knew you’d choose the right Path, Doktor.
Sure, he still had no feeling in almost his entire left arm, only able to move his hand, the rest of the arm a dead weight confined to a sling.
But there was so much to put him in a good mood, as he walked through the forest.
He hadn’t put his own feet to the Earth in so long.
Sure, he had his projection, but for all the sensations it transmitted back to him, it didn’t transmit the little things. The feeling of the wind on his face, the smell of the grass, the feeling of branches brushing against his body as he walked. There was something deeply calming about it, that put a smile on his face.
Well. That and the fact that he was going to awaken the Grim Reaper of Fate.
The hitman that was cursed to destroy anything that stood in the way of Fate’s favored Path coming to pass. He who was Made in Heaven.
Oshima’s dearest friend.
It had been an eternity since they had last seen each other. The last time had been when he watched as a blade went into the reaper’s heart. That didn’t kill the Reaper, because those cursed like they were couldn’t die, but it did drain all of his energy. He had to go rest in his crypt, to regenerate his energy, sleeping until the day his skills were needed again.
He was happy, really, that his friend was able to get the rest he deserved.
But he’d still never forgive the bastard that caused that.
He stepped past the last trees, and found himself in a clearing, perfectly circular. The ground here was barren, incapable of growing anything. He smiled looking at it. He walked forward, almost to the center, before stopping. Here he lay, waiting to be awoken. All he had to do now was summon the entrance.
So he raised his right hand and, as he did, he pressed his fingertips against his palm, until his nails pierced his flesh. Oshima turned his fist so the blood would flow down to the ground, and moved his hand so a line of blood appeared on the ground. He took a few steps back, and then clapped his bleeding right hand against his immobile left hand.
It was like a spark was set off.
The ground shook, as stone began to push up through the ground. An entrance way began to come into view, clumps of dirt falling away as a large stone arch appeared.
The Grim Reaper’s crypt was open.
Oshima began his descent.
As he stepped down the stone steps, torches began to light up, giving light to his path. He began to take the steps quicker and quicker, his excitement mounting. He practically leapt off the stairs at the end, bypassing the last step entirely, starting to run forward to the center of the crypt.
And he stopped in his tracks.
He remembered how the Reaper looked when he was put to sleep. He sat on his stone throne, arms on the armrests, head against the back of it, looking like a man asleep.
This was not how he was now.
He was slumped down more in the throne, arms splayed out, head lolled to one side.
The wound over his heart was rotting.
Oshima rushed forward to where the throne was, grabbing the Reaper with his good arm and hefting him up to a sitting position. When he touched him, he felt no spark. No reaction. Nothing. He shook him. Once, then another time, and more times after. But still nothing. He couldn’t deny it.
The Grim Reaper was dead.
--
Eons Past…
Oshima leaned against one of the walls of the crypt, looking down at the fallen Reaper. He laid on his side on the cold stone floor, the armor he had been wearing before now torn to shreds, cuts and slashes and stabs, all fresh, littered his body, bleeding copiously. He had been warned that the garrison of warriors they were looking after needed to complete every kill they intended to, but the moment the Reaper saw the child in their path, he’d stepped in. Despite the command against it, he saved the child. Now, it had no Fate, and the Reaper had to be punished for that. Again. Oshima sighed.
Shinji Oshima: Nigami…
The Reaper, Shin Nigami, made only a faint pained noise to show he was listening.
Shinji Oshima: When will you stop this? When will you stop fighting your Fate?
The first response he got was a wet laugh, and Oshima was impressed he managed to get it past all the blood coming from his mouth. Nigami’s hand pressed against the ground and started to push himself up. He shook his head, spraying little drops of blood as he did.
Shin Nigami: Do I breathe?
Shinji Oshima: Despite your best efforts.
Shin Nigami: Then I’ll continue.
Oshima’s expression changed to one of exasperation.
Shinji Oshima: Will you stop?! All you’re doing is causing yourself more torture! Those people are not worth your time, or your consideration! You’re the Grim Reaper appointed by Fate! So let them just die!
Nigami shook his head again.
Shin Nigami: No. It’s not right.
Shinji Oshima: We’re not allowed to care about right and wrong.
Nigami laughed.
Shin Nigami: Of course we are. We live, do we not?
Oshima looked around the barren stone tomb.
Shinji Oshima: This is a life?
Shin Nigami: You’re too cynical, my friend. You’ve let her beat you down too much.
Shinji Oshima: I just accept what I’ve become. I’m the Seer.
Shin Nigami: You’re more than that.
Shinji Oshima: No. I’m not. And neither are you.
Nigami sighs.
Shin Nigami: I know you’ve been cursed for so much longer than I, but you can’t agree with this. Making sure what she wants occurs, no matter the cost of happiness or life to others. This isn’t how Fate should work.
Shinji Oshima: And yet, it is. What she wants, she gets. And she wants you in line. She wants you beaten.
Shin Nigami: Never. There’s only one way that would happen. You’d know when she’s beaten me…
Shinji Oshima: And when’s that?
Even with all the time that has passed since then, Oshima had never seen an expression so...certain.
Shin Nigami: When I’m dead.
--
For some moments he simply stared at the corpse of his best friend. He realized, distantly, that there was heat on his face from tears. He hadn’t cried in so long, not since the night he was cursed. But for the Grim Reaper, he shed tears. And then his body stiffened.
He realized suddenly that she was standing there behind him.
F: What a nice reunion you have here.
Shinji Oshima: ...why….
A chuckle.
F: Well, you know how Nigami was. He wanted to rebel, he wanted to not listen to what I ordered of him, he wanted to be the good decent man he was raised to be. Which is hilarious, since we know what raised him. Him and the one who killed him.
Oshima said nothing, not able to find words.
F: I could have let him die then, of course. But obviously then I’d not know when I’d get a suitable replacement for him. When the next idiot who changes Fate will come along to become cursed.
He felt a hand pat him on the shoulder.
F: And I have you to thank for that.
Oshima blinked in confusion, before his eyes went wide, head turning to look at her with horror.
F: Five years ago, you found not only your own replacement...but Nigami’s too.
Shinji Oshima: No…
F: Yes. So with him around, I had no need for Nigami, did I? Besides, you don’t have time for more than one true friend, with your busy schedule.
Oshima says nothing again, head turning to look back at Nigami’s body, blankly.
F: So be a good Seer and get back to your work. Forget Nigami. And wait for the day I call upon your new friend to join you.
For a moment he’s silent. And then, he speaks.
Shinji Oshima: I refuse.
F: ...excuse me?
Shinji Oshima: I refuse.
He stands up, suddenly, and reaches forward with his good arm. He grasps Nigami’s body and brings it close to him, clutching it to him. He feels cuts begin to open on his back, but he ignores them. His eyes go out of focus, as he looks for where he needs to be. He sees it, and a moment later vanishes, taking the body with him.
She watches him vanish. He had rebelled, just like Nigami would. Now he would do something stupid, and create ripples that would change several Paths.
Just like she wanted.
She walked over to the throne and took a seat, one leg crossing over the other.
F: Oh, I wonder how this will turn out....
Fate laughs, as what She desires come to pass.
--
He had been typing for what felt like days now. Line after line of code, attempting to change 0s and 1s into thoughts and actions. But every time he felt like he was on the verge, it would break apart. Error after error would flash on the screen, and he would be back to square one, back to typing out line after line of code, hoping that this time he would finally make the final breakthrough.
The shell had been prepared for him, every motor and gear put together perfectly for this purpose. But there was no engine, no mind to guide it yet. Just error after error.
He didn’t even hear him appear. It was the sound of a cleared throat that alerted him, with him turning in his seat so fast, hand moving to a gun clipped to his belt. But he stopped, at the truly bizarre sight in front of him.
An Asian man in a suit, his left arm in a sling, blood dripping onto the floor from what he assumed were wounds on his back, clutching what was obviously a corpse to his body with his free arm. His pupils wide, eyes darting around, hand twitching. The man smiled at him, and there was something deeply wrong with it.
Shinji Oshima: I understand you’ve been having problems with the mind. I have your solution.
For a moment he pressed his hand against the grip of the gun at his belt...and then his hand fell away. The man with the arm sling smiled wider.
Shinji Oshima: I knew you’d choose the right Path, Doktor.
