Credits: Tenchi Muyo!/No Need For Tenchi is a product of Pioneer/AIC. As such, I'm getting no compensation for writing this fiction other than my own enjoyment, because the thought of getting sued is rather unpleasant. James O'Barr for his contemporary conceptualization of ancient myth as seen in "The Crow". Aside from the actual bird, no specific events or characters from his graphic novel have been used in this story. Disclaimer: All characters *I* have created are purely a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is pure coincidence. Anyone who thinks otherwise is probably just itching for a fight. Also, please do not try and distribute this story in some lame attempt to make a buck; it would be bad karma to say the least. Comments and Criticisms appreciated! Send them to Michael McAvoy (mmcavoy@ejourney.com) http://www.angelfire.com/va3/shenandoah/ Last updated October 15, 2001. Tenchi Muyo! "Iniquitous Angel" A Fan-Fiction by Michael McAvoy I used to believe in a lot of things when I was very little... a lot of things that made sense to me back then. They were simple ideas, but now I am not so sure of them anymore. Maybe I will not be sure ever again. It is so hard to tell. Even now, the memories are fading. The ache and the hurt are getting more and more dull. Sometimes... sometimes I think that is a good thing. After all, we are not meant to remember pain. We can remember that we were in pain and still feel the edges of it, but the clarity and sharpness of hurt and suffering fall away from most of us in time. Yes, it is a good thing, but with the pain also goes my fond memories of them... of him... I still miss you so. I wish you would not fade, but I know you must... Sister Ayeka feels the same, but she tries to be brave about it, making a mask of happiness I know she can not feel. At least, I hope she does not feel so happy as she pretends. I do not want to believe that sister could forget so easily, but it is hard to know with her. I try to talk with her about what went on in the palace, but... but she only gets angry and walks away from me. I guess she really does want the memories to fade as fast as they can. And Tsunami has no answers for me. I can reach into myself and find her there, silent and troubled by my questions. She has no answers... and I think that bothers her more than it does me. Tsunami's silence opens a window of understanding, though, that maybe she is not all knowing and powerful as we give her credit for. Because what happened to me... what happened to them... it was all beyond her realm of control. Something that moved from Earth to Jurai... not by science or by an energy, but by some mysterious spirit outside of our normal perception. Something universal. Something ancient. I never thought I would see you again, and I know we will never meet again in this life, but I want to think we will all be together again after I am done here. But... it is such a long time for me, so many years. I wonder if I will be able to remember you when my time is done? If I can keep the love in my heart for you both forever, then maybe we will all be reunited again... somewhere... sometime. I can only hope. My new friend misses you very much, too. Her hurt is as deep as yours was, I think, but she takes strength from how you changed her life. She does not know what she will do, now that she is an orphan, but we are very close, so I will not let anything hurt her again, I swear. I have always needed a friend like this... Thank you for bringing her into my life. We will visit you both on Earth soon, I promise. We will sit out on the grass and talk the day away, so you can know we are both all right. And even though you will not be able to speak, we know you will hear us. And knowing will be enough. * * * * * * * * Don't look don't look! This shadow's free, Whispering me away from you. Don't wake at night to watch her sleep; You know that you will always lose. Don't talk of love; this shadow's burned, Burning me away from you. Don't talk of worlds that never were; The end is always ever true. -- The Cure The world was hard, frozen, and bathed in a heavy darkness that draped over the land. Across rolling mountains, trees stripped of their foliage bent and twisted in a savage wind that raked with a howling ferocity. Clouds above, boiling in the inky blackness of night, they released their burden in the form of sharp and harsh fits of snow. It was a terrible winter, punctuating the drawing days of a year and offering little hope for the coming one. And yet, there was no purpose, no higher meaning or agenda to explain the violence of the winter night. It was simply a night, nothing more. Only unfortunate humans, trapped within their isolated dwellings, perched on the sides of the mountaintops, had the imaginations to believe otherwise. Riding the desperate winds of the storm, a form was barely contrasted against the midnight colored clouds. With a wingspan and body size inordinately large for its species, a crow, wrapped in feathers of black, steered the ripping currents of air with purpose and ease. Slicing through the wind and ice as if it were not even there, the huge bird, as large as the mightiest of ravens, careened across the ridges and through the valleys with intense purpose. Dropping suddenly, the crow sliced downwards, plummeting towards an exposed ridge that lifted from the side of a mountain. Arcing through whipping trees that lined the ridge, the crow erupted its wings violently, all but halting its descent. With several mighty thrusts of its wings, the crow finally alighted upon a monument made of stone. Pivoting around on top of the monument, it's feathers constantly buffeted by the winter gale, the massive bird considered the other monuments that lined either side of the one on which it was perched. Equally as large and solemn as the dark stone the crow was on, there was another one to its left and two to its right. In the darkness of night, it was impossible to see the inscriptions upon them, but the crow was certain it was on the right marker. It *knew*. Beginning to thrash its wings violently again, the crow scratched at the stone top of the monument with its razor sharp claws. Reaching into the beyond, the crow called. The crow commanded. * * * Ryoko wrapped herself a little more deeply into the thick coat she was wearing. Wrinkling her nose at the cold air without effect, she once again wished Earthlings would progress to the point where they could actually control their weather. The sun was shining, but it was freezing. How could they stand this? Reaching past her collar with one hand, she fingered the velvet choker around her neck that Washu had lent her again. "Teeeenchi," she whined a little, moving down a sidewalk with a bag in her other hand, "do we *have* to be out here in the cold?" Tenchi looked over from where he was walking beside the pirate and raised an eyebrow. "Well, Ryoko, the only way to get to the orphanage is to walk," he replied, "You didn't have to come, you know. Princess Ayeka and Sasami decided against coming out." "I know, I know," grumbled Ryoko, "naturally, the only time I could get Ayeka to not complain about me going somewhere with you is if it`s freezing out." Ryoko removed her free hand from her neck and sighed. It would be so easy for her to remove the choker and have access to her powers again. but she shook her head. Her enthusiasm for Tenchi, coupled with her amazing abilities, always ended up ruining things every time she felt she was just starting to break through to him. No, Ryoko felt it was necessary to limit her powers until she could learn to control them better. Ryoko smiled at that thought, drawing more warmth from the coat. In the entire galaxy, only Tenchi could possibly have the chance of making Ryoko even consider restraint. "Have you done this a lot?" Ryoko asked Tenchi as they continued to walk, "Given presents for some of the orphans at Christmas?" Tenchi nodded. "Most years," he said, "though usually my father has been the one who comes here. I like doing it, though." `So do I,' Ryoko thought with a happy sigh, `and with you alone makes it so special to me. I hope you understand that, dearest Tenchi.' * * * Atop one of the four monuments, the crow continued to beat its wings with force in the stinging snow. Now rising its voice in an awful caw, the crow continued a powerful call across from this world into the next. Even over the screaming winds that were racing across the mountainside and out of the darkness, a muffled sound could be heard coming from deep within the ground below. The eyes of the crow gleamed in satisfaction as it began to strike the stone with the tip of its beak like a hammer. Lightning flashed across the sky, momentarily illuminating the driven snow and clouds. * * * A white lance of pain struck into Ryoko's left side, piercing her kidney hotly and stabbing upwards. Her cry cut off by the powerful hand that grasped her throat, the choker that separated Ryoko from her powers dug into her windpipe. Her eyes widening in rage and horror, she saw Tenchi dropped by a man who had been holding him. As Tenchi collapsed to the ground, a third man, with a shining weapon, smiled nastily. The blade in Ryoko's side continued its path, splashing her blood on the inside of her coat and clothes hotly against her cold skin. Suddenly, she lost the strength in her knees, and she buckled. Ryoko's captor released her as she fell to the ground in a back alley. * * * Now louder than the storm, the noises coming from the ground had risen to shuddering levels. The sound of wood and metal grinding and groaning against each other sang out in a horrific symphony, like the sides of a ship buckling as it sank. Out in front of the monument, the surface of the earth began to rise and roll. And the crow called. * * * It was very quiet... almost muffled. Though the sun shone brightly, the air was still very cold, but Ryoko could not feel the temperature any longer. Everything was becoming weaker to her by the moment, and the savage pain in her side was slowly subsiding as well. Face down in the alleyway, the pirate struggled to turn her head to the side. Succeeding after several moments of futile attempts, Ryoko's vision cleared and focused on a body not several feet from her own. Lying on his back, facing the blue sky, Tenchi stared wide eyed and labored for every breath. A neat wound marked his chest just left of center and near his heart. Blood trickled at the corner of his mouth. Ryoko cried out silently, trying desperately to bring her hand up to her neck to remove the choker. If she could just get it off, maybe she would have the power to... Tenchi shuddered twice, gasping for breath, before letting out a deep sigh. His body relaxing softly, Tenchi's eyes lost their wide stare and closed slightly as the light left him forever. Ryoko ratcheted her mouth open in a scream that came out only as a gurgled cry. Weakening further, she was unable to bring her hand any closer to the damned choker around her neck. Losing all the feeling she had left, Ryoko wept into the dirt and grime of the alley as her light also disappeared from this world. * * * There was a violent concussion, and dead grass and soil erupted in a shuddering groan as a heavy wood and steel coffin was thrust into the freezing night. Throwing its head back in triumph, the crow screamed into the fury of the storm, lifting its wings in tribute and welcome. Spilling more earth to one side, the lid of the box was forced open, almost ripped away from its heavy hinges. Launching up from within the coffin, a figure, dressed in a black ceremonial death kimono, moaned loudly and thrashed in confusion, clawing at the earth that threatened to collapse back into the now open box. Continuing to thrash about wildly, the figure scraped out of the coffin and onto the frozen ground before the grave stone. Rocking back on its knees, the figure dropped its shoulders and howled into the raging night. And the crow raised its voice alongside in a frightening chorus. * * * Few things could have roused the man from his sleep and out into the teeth of a winter storm. After the tragedy life had handed him in the past year, few things indeed. But a terrible scream, a scream of all the emptiness and terror of the world raised in one apocalyptic voice, instantly brought him up from the depths of a slumber that had long since ceased to bring any rest. A gaunt and thin Yosho slammed the sliding door of the Masaki temple open, despite the howling winds. In an appearance shocking to anyone that would have known him a year earlier, the prince of Jurai stared out into the stormy night with hard eyes. Dressed in clothes now threadbare, Yosho appeared to have aged at least ten years, and not well, either. Stepping down the steps somewhat shakily, Yosho then raced as fast as he could against the wind. Passing through the temple courtyard, ill kept and littered with limbs and other mountain trash, he headed up towards the ridge from where he heard the scream... a place where no voice should be at any time. Almost blown off his feet several times, the aged prince of Jurai crested the ridge and froze in his tracks. Wind whipping the long gray and white hair behind him, Yosho stared in horror, his usual calm demeanor failing him. Before him, it's lid tossed away and the earth around it thrust asunder, was a coffin. An empty coffin. * * * In a disturbance that rivaled the roar of the snowy gale swirling above, the figure smashed through the darkness that enveloped the countryside. All around, limbs of trees grabbed and underbrush tore at the racing shadow, but never once came close to slowing it down. A deep and keening wail reverberated against the valley walls, every note laced with fear, horror, and pain. High above, the crow kept pace with the sprinting apparition, every note of anguish lifting the bird higher in ecstasy. Smashing from the mountain brush in a flurry of snow, the moaning soul sailed out over a clear spot that marked where a road cut across the slope. A swirl of cloth, ragged and torn black robes whipping behind, the figure touched down on the ice and snow- covered pavement and immediately slipped. Skidding at an incredible rate of speed, the phantom slid straight towards a sharp curve that overlooked a shear drop off of more than one hundred feet. Crashing through the flimsy wood posts that served as a guardrail, the figure sailed out into the darkness, robes flapping and fluttering on outstretched arms. For a brief moment, the ghostly figure flew on wings of black. And the crow laughed in rapture at the wondrously horrific spectacle. A piercing scream slicing the night storm, gravity reasserted itself and the robed figure plummeted, crashing through the tops of the bare trees into the darkness below. As the large bird soared the buffeting winds, it heard the snaps as branches tore and broke under the falling weight, ending in a muffled impact far below. With barely a pause, there were more screams and crashes in the distance from down the mountainside as the supernatural being continued to run. `That's right,' delighted the crow, `keep running, girl! Keep running, because the pain is right behind you! Keep running until you realize you'll never escape it!' It was timeless. As long as there had been intelligence in creatures, there had been brutality and murder. As long as there had been brutality and murder, there had been vengeance. And as long as there had been a need for vengeance, the crow had existed in many forms and on many worlds. The surge and ecstasy of pain from the tortured and grieving victims that the spirit felt. Never did it cease to thrill. * * * Lights flashed, perched on the tops of Japanese police cars. Formed in a loose barricade, numerous traffic cops kept spectators at bay. A few flakes of snow were spitting out of a gray sky, tears frozen in soft sadness. In an alleyway, a pair of heavy blankets covered to shapes. It was not difficult to anyone standing beyond the police lines to realize two bodies lay underneath. Walking out of the alley, a female traffic officer was stony faced, wishing she were still in Tokyo. She came up short in front of her partner, who was leaning up against a small patrol car. "Hey," she said. "Miyuki, you okay?" The officer named Miyuki nodded sharply and took in a shuddering breath. "I'm all right, Natsumi," she replied. "I... I just didn't expect to see something... like this." Natsumi reached out and gave her partner's hand a comforting squeeze. Wishing she had a cup of hot tea, or even that mud-water people called coffee. "I never would have thought we'd see something like this out here in the country," was all Natsumi could say. "So much for this two week 'officer exchange' training being a cake-walk." Miyuki just shivered, wishing she were back home in her own precinct. Back in place where nothing bad really ever seemed to happen. A single tear crested and streaked down Miyuki's cheek. "They weren't much younger than us, Natsumi," she whispered. A wailing in the distance could be heard as ambulances raced fruitlessly to the scene. * * * The storm had abated somewhat when the figure in black robes crashed and stumbled through the gates of the local fairgrounds. It was a country fairground, perched up on a hill where carnival during the summer played well into the night. Now, it was deserted for the season. Staggering across the untouched blanket of snow that covered the empty grounds, the figure shook violently, hands trembling with thin fingers outstretched. Above, the crow came to rest on the eave of a small roof. Cawing loudly, the bird scratched its claws on the wooden roof, beating its wings. The ghost below, trembling, looked up at the bird through soaked and matted strands of hair. 'That's right, girl,' the crow spoke into the figure's traumatized mind. 'There's no running from it, and there's no stopping it. You're going to have to face the truth.' The woman's mouth slowly hung open, slack and draped in shadow. Rising her hands to her the sides of her head, the beginnings of a new round of screaming was about to start. Laughing, the crow danced with glee. 'Face it, girl!' There was a savage and jagged edge of pain and memories that flashed in the mind of the woman. Howling like an animal, she staggered backwards in the snow, spine arching to the point where it could have snapped. Images of blood, knives, and men surrounding her and the one she loved more than anything in the world. She kept backing up, but they would not stop, they would not cease the endless repetition in her mind's eye. Picking up speed from her shuffling, the woman met a plate glass window. Razor shards flew in all directions as she crashed through it, sprawling to a hardwood floor. Snowflakes swirled into the small building, light from a lone street lamp streaming in. Tangled in a pile of costumes, robes, and hangers, she collapsed in a storeroom to the fairground's little theater. 'You know you can't run,' the crow mocked from the shattered windowsill. 'Can't hide from it either. What's left then?' Weeping terribly, the woman moaned from where she lay on the floor. A gleam from the crow's eyes pierced the snowy gloom. 'There's vengeance, girl! Anger, revenge!' And then something was different. Pain began to turn into heated rage, slow but steadily burning within the broken features of the phantom. Choking sobs gave way to a throaty growl, like a ravaged animal that was beyond the point of taking any more abuse. Fighting her way to her feet, the woman smashed through the rest of the theater storeroom, up-turning crates and boxes, looking for something. 'There, girl,' whispered the crow again in her mind. 'There on the tables...' For the crow had an image in it's mind of how its instrument of death and justice should appear. The snarling woman, reached for a bottle on a nearby table, knocking away aerosol cans, brushes, and other items in the process. There was an inky black fluid in the bottle she grasped tightly, strangling the plastic with both her hands. Ripping the top of the bottle off, she dumped the contents on her head and slung the plastic away. Raking her hands through her long hair, the black dye was streaked over and over until the original color was no longer present. Finished with that, the woman grabbed small pots of kabuki face paints, tearing the pots open looking for the right colors. Finding what she was looking for, the figure began ferociously smearing white and then black paint on her horrid face. * * * An hour later in the once again quiet fairgrounds, a lone figure stood out amongst the snow, very still. Unnaturally black hair spilled down from its head in long spikes, falling over a combination of black kabuki robes and skintight leather. Lifting its face to the one lamplight in the entire area, it was a woman with skin made unearthly pale and white from the theater paint. Around the eyes, jet black ringed with streaks above and below each one. Lips were also black, twisted in a terrible frown. The crow swooped out of the darkness and landed on the woman's shoulder. It beat its wings several times, trying to get settled as the she began to walk into the night. 'You know who they are, don't you, girl?' the crow asked with a fearsome expectation. She stopped for a moment, her face still shadowed mostly in dark. Looking up slowly at the massive bird perched on her shoulder, the woman nodded once before starting to walk again. "Juraian robes," the figure named Ryoko said in a voice dead of emotion. "They were wearing Juraian robes." Together, the crow and the space pirate who had been dead for a year walking out into the dark night. The still falling snow quickly filled in their tracks. Many people were going to die. They just did not realize it, yet. * * * Chapter 2: a confrontation with Yosho and a mentally unbalanced Washu. The crow saves a life before it self-extinguishes, but brutally takes another. Comments and Criticisms appreciated. Michael McAvoy mmcavoy@ejourney.com http://www.angelfire.com/va3/shenandoah/ Last updated October 15, 2001.