The Kyoto Ordeal (Tales of the Other Universe Book 1)

by J. G. Taschereau

  “I overreacted earlier. I took out my frustration on you, and you didn’t deserve it. Of all of the people here, you’re the last person I should be upset with. It’s just that I get so upset when I have to think back on that time, because going off to fight in that war really screwed me up. When I first met you, I warned you that if you wanted to keep living a normal life, you should stay away from the Creator and I meant it. You’re a really considerate and kind young lady, and you deserve more than having to put up with his troubles, and mine too.”

  Ayumi was still silent inside of her room, but Cody had the feeling that he had at least captured her attention. If he was going to make things right with her, he would need to say more.

  “You asked me earlier who I lost in the war,” he went on. “I was hesitant to tell you, because I don’t like talking about it. I think the only other people who know are the Creator and my fiancée, but I don’t think you’ll really be able to understand where I’m coming from unless I tell you. The one I lost in the war was named Maro. He was my little brother.”

  The silence persisted, and so did Cody.

  “He disappeared not long before I went to the Other Universe. We never really found out why, but he was taken to the Other Universe ahead of time and taken into the company of The Baggins. Because time moves differently there than it does here, by the time I got to the Other Universe Maro was already fully grown. More so, he was a general in The Baggins’ army, and therefore my enemy.

  “I didn’t find this out until after I had already been involved in the war for some time. Before the last siege on The Baggins’ fortress, I found myself in the tower where Maro was stationed. I hardly recognized him when I met him, and he’d been driven mad from the life he had been forced to live. Maro blamed me for what happened; he said that I couldn’t protect him, that The Baggins could. It just about killed me, because in a way he was right. I couldn’t have saved him.”

  “What happened?” Ayumi finally asked. Her voice was close, right behind the door. At some point in the explanation she had moved to stand just on the other side. The anger in her voice had faded, replaced with a forlorn curiosity.

  “Maro made it clear to me at that point that our ideologies had taken very different paths, and that he would be moving forward with The Baggins to help him achieve his goals. He wasn’t going to let me get in the way, and I was obligated to do whatever it took to stop The Baggins and his war.”

  Cody paused, momentarily unable to bring the words to his lips and explain the rest of the story, but he didn’t need to. The door opened slowly and Ayumi appeared before him with glassy eyes. Cody exhaled, knowing that Ayumi understood.

  “The Baggins took away my brother’s innocence, and because of that I had to take his life. That’s the reason I can never forgive The Baggins, or the Creator for allowing such a man to get away with what he did. Now all I want is for both of them to be gone from this world, so that those of us here can live our lives without having to worry about the Creator’s troubles. You shouldn’t have to worry about that.”

  “I don’t know if I could do it,” Ayumi said. “After all that, you came back and put yourself at risk again for the sake of the world.”

  “I haven’t got very much left, but I can’t let The Baggins threaten what I do have. Even if it means facing my demons again, I will just for her.”

  Ayumi smiled weakly. “She must be a lucky girl.”

  “I’ve always considered myself to be the lucky one,” Cody said. “No matter how bad things seem to turn, she’ll still be waiting for me when I come home. Even if that’s not the only cause driving me forward, it’s still the best reason for me to fight.”

  “What other cause do you have?” Ayumi asked.

  “Finding closure,” Cody said unwaveringly. Before Ayumi could clarify, the further door opened as Adam and Dee stepped out into the hallway. Cody gave them a light wave as they went down the hallway to the living room.

  “Good to see that he’s looking up,” Cody said. “Let’s hope he did enough soul-searching to figure out what he needs for tomorrow’s battle. Shall we go join everyone else then?”

  Ayumi nodded and followed Cody down the hallway, the latter taking his time. “Is everything cleared up between us, Ayumi?”

  “Yeah, there was no harm done after all,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason,” he told her. Of course, he had just wanted to make sure that his conscience could be clear before the battle. The last thing he would want would be to die with something like that hanging over his head.

  Much later that night, after most of Kyoto had gone to bed, two men were still awake in the final room of the Ninomaru complex of Nijo Castle. Lit only my a single candle on their table, the angry alter ego and The Baggins kept themselves occupied with a game of chess. The Baggins moved a pawn that was quickly taken.

  “Don’t you think that shogi would be more appropriate?” he asked.

  “There’s no need for us to have to learn a new game,” the doppelganger said as he moved his bishop to take another pawn.

  “Where did you learn to play?”

  “I learned through the fledgling. I suppose chess is one thing that he’s good at.”

  “You really don’t give him enough credit.” The Baggins took the double’s knight. “He’s still an excellent swordsman, and he’s nearly mastered the elements of Magid that he controls.”

  “No matter how good he is, I will always be better.” The doppelganger’s queen took The Baggins’ bishop. “Tell me, have you ever heard of a concept called survival of the fittest?”

  “I have,” The Baggins replied.

  “Then you can understand where I’m coming from. The ones who stand up and can keep on living are the ones that will triumph in the end. There are some, like Sgt. Rogers and Serbanescu who were only good for testing the enemy’s strength.” He took one of The Baggins’ pawns. “Then there are people like the fledgling and his friends, knights who come to save the day but are still restricted in their movements by a sense of righteousness.”

  The Baggins moved his knight and took the doppelganger’s rook. The latter scoffed.

  “Then there are people like you, who have the power to move as many spaces as you want in any direction, truly strong but not the strongest.” He used his queen to take The Baggins’ knight. “The greatest piece is the king, for without it there can be no victory, there can’t even be a game. Simply by existing or not, the king controls everything. That is true power.”

  “Maybe, but you’ve neglected one thing. The king’s movements are also limited, only the pawn is below him in those terms. You do not dare to move him, for his death means the end of the game. Instead, you send ‘weaker’ pieces to fight for him and keep him protected. When you think about it, the king is actually very weak. After all, in the end, more often than not, the king has to die.”

  The Baggins moved his queen. “Checkmate.”

  The doppelganger stared at the board and looked over his moves, realizing that he had been beaten. His face flashed with rage and he knocked the board aside, scattering the remaining pieces on the floor. He tore out of his seat and stormed off towards the door.

  “Just remember that the idea of survival of the fittest doesn’t always work out,” The Baggins called to him. “Sometimes the ones you consider to be weak can really surprise you.”

  The doppelganger ignored him and disappeared down the dark hallway. The Baggins sat alone and extinguished the candle with his gloved hand, leaving him in darkness.

  “It’s been 1,200 years for me,” he thought. “Now it’s time to see which of us is worthy of being called the stronger one. Don’t disappoint me, Moon.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The Final Preparations

  December 24th, 2004

  Ayumi was the first one to wake up that morning and found herself sitting alone in the living room for some time. She figured that the others must be getting their rest; they all ha
d a long day ahead of them. She checked outside and saw that no new snow had fallen the night before. The forecast had called for a chance of snow in the later half of the 24th, and she only hoped that the group going ahead would not be slowed by a storm.

  Drifting away from the window, Ayumi made her way over to a shelf on the other side of the living room. She spied the gilded picture frame sitting on the shelf and moved in to get a better look. It was a picture of her family when she was a few years younger: her, her father, and her brother Shuya. Her eyes lingered on her smiling brother in the picture, who looked so grown up and professional even then. She couldn’t imagine what her life would be like if she had lost her brother. Cody was obviously much stronger than she was, she thought.

  The room was unusually silent, aside from the ticking of the clock. For the first time since her guests had arrived, she was beginning to feel alone. With her brother studying abroad and her father away on business, she would have likely been even more alone if not for the intervention of the Creator and his followers. It hadn’t even been a week, but it already felt like so much longer. Now the day that they all were waiting for had come, and no matter what the outcome of the approaching battle would be, the way things were would be changing again.

  Cody was right about one thing for certain, Ayumi thought, and that was that her life would change as a result of getting involved with the Creator. Whether that relationship would lead to negative consequences would have to be determined later, but at the present Ayumi realized that her time spent with the group was marked with new experiences and high emotions. Through it all, she was satisfied to have made the friends she did, and saddened to know that soon they would be gone.

  Ayumi made her way to the telephone and dialed a number. As it rang, she concluded that even though she could only support the others in their efforts to fight off the invaders, she could still do something to wish them well when they returned. Someone on the other end of the phone picked up, and greeted Ayumi in a sleepy voice.

  “Bakura-kun? Don’t tell me you were still sleeping,” she scolded in Japanese. “The sun’s already been up for a while.”

  “Yeah, but there’s no school this week so I’ve been sleeping in later,” Bakura answered in his native language.

  “Yeah, well there’s a good reason for that. You shouldn’t be taking advantage of a serious situation. Anyway, since you obviously have a lot of free time, I need to ask you something.”

  “What is it?”

  “I need you to get the rest of the guys together for a small show tonight,” Ayumi said.

  “Huh?” the boy on the other line asked. “That’s really short notice, Ayu-chan.”

  “I know, but it’s important,” she replied. “Some foreign friends of mine are in town and they’ve got some important stuff to do tonight. I wanted to treat them with something nice when they get back.”

  “Foreign friends?” Bakura repeated.

  “Don’t worry about it. Can I count on you?”

  Bakura grumbled. “I’ll give them a call. Where are you planning on doing this?”

  “My place, later on tonight,” Ayumi answered.

  “Alright, alright. We’ll get it together. You’re lucky you’re so cute you know, or else I wouldn’t put up with you.”

  “Thanks, Bakura-kun.” He hung up on his end and Ayumi clicked the receiver back onto the phone. “Let’s hope I can do something for them after all.”

  The frigid autumn evening was devoid of wind. The light from the full moon shone down on the Gramstad Manor where all of the governance of Khanka came from. On that evening, there was only anarchy within the structure as dozens of men wielding swords, rifles, and improvised explosives stormed the building. Many of them were wrapped in black cloaks to hide their identities, but others openly identified themselves with bright blue jackets that flapped in the cold air as they rushed in. The sight of these jackets alarmed the current occupiers of the manor, who also wore them as their uniform.

  As soon as the attack began, there were no more affiliations. Anyone who would not join the rebels would be cut down immediately. That was the new order that would be imposed for the sake of restoring justice. It was the order brought about by Adam Evans and his new Khazaki.

  In the basement of the manor, a swordsman with long black hair tied tightly in a ponytail feverously gathered up his effects from the cold wooden floor as he attempted to flee from the raid. As he packed up the last of them and slipped them into a metal briefcase, he heard the door above crack open and the sound of footsteps rushing down the stairs. Coolly, he stood up straight and turned to learn the identity of this new person. Of course, he had already known who it would be.

  “You couldn’t just let me go, could you, Evans?” said Seb Ommati. Adam stood opposite of him in the darkness, his features visible from the light billowing down from the open door above. He drew his sword and held it out in front of him. Both he and Seb knew that the time for words between them had passed.

  Adam charged as Seb drew his sword and met the advancing swing with his own, parrying into an attack. Adam dodged and broke the contact of their blades before rushing in again in a furious haste. The two clashed swords once more, unleashing several successive strikes that the other one deflected.

  As their swords met again, Seb raised his leg and kicked Adam back against the stony wall. Adam’s head struck the wall hard and he groaned in pain. As he brought his attention back in front of him, he saw the tip of Seb’s blade already just inches away. There was no time to react, and in a split second the sword pierced both of his clavicles and his throat in a swift and violent display of Seb’s expertise.

  Seb kept the tip of his sword in Adam’s throat for a few moments to watch the last of his life choked out of him. When the gurgling in his throat ceased, Seb tore the blade from his opponent and stood back to admire the murder. Adam’s body toppled over as it lost its support and Seb sneered at his fallen prey.

  “I expected a lot more from you, Evans,” Seb said. He took out a rag from his own Khazaki jacket and wiped off the blood from his sword, making sure to get every last bit of blood off. In his meticulousness, Seb failed to notice the slow movement of a hand on the ground. It was only when the sound of that hand gripping its own sword reached him that Seb realized too late what was happening.

  Adam thrust his sword upward and pierced Seb’s abdomen, causing the horrified swordsman to stumble backwards and inspect his wound and then Adam. Seb watched in disbelief as Adam, still drenched in the blood from his injuries, got back to his feet and held his sword ready to keep fighting. As Adam raised his head up, Seb noticed the change in him immediately. The Adam Evans he knew, though always a temperamental person, was gone. The eyes that glared back at him now were nothing but a reflection of hatred and bloody rage.

  With an almost inhuman shout, Adam rushed at Seb and swung down with his sword, this time with enough force to throw Seb off guard. His movements were much wilder now, and the strength behind each swing much more intense. It was as if he had become an entirely different person.

  Seb held out for a few exchanges, but the increased power behind Adam’s blows quickly became too much. As he tired, Adam took his opening. With two swift swings, both of Seb’s forearms were liberated from his body. Both appendages and Seb’s sword dropped to the wooden floor, followed by a stunned Seb. Now on his knees and totally defenseless, Seb was completely at Adam’s mercy.

  He looked up at the victor through the dark glasses, seeing only Adam’s steady, furious gaze. Seb panted to regain his breath, trying to ignore the pain of his wounds and focus on what was inevitably about to happen. Unable to raise a hand in protest or defense, Seb was restricted to pleading.

  “Evans, please,” he whispered pitifully.

  It was useless. Adam Evans could no longer hear him, and even if he could would not likely have had any mercy. He brought down his sword and in what seemed like a single swing slashed into six of Seb’s vital points simultane
ously. The man let out a groan of pain and fell over dead, unlike Adam, never to rise again.

  Adam stood over the body, his rage slowly fading back to normal as he accepted that he had finally won. His gaze was still stuck on Seb’s face, twisted in pain. The dark glasses never fell from the bridge of his nose and were perfectly intact.

  He took out his own rag and wiped off his sword before returning it to its sheath. Then without hesitating, Adam bent down to the corpse and plucked the glasses from Seb’s face. He flicked off a bit of blood that had dripped down from Seb’s neck and then positioned the small glasses over the bridge of his nose. With the glasses in place, he looked back down at the corpse. This time, it wasn’t Seb’s face twisted in agony staring back at him. It was his own.

  Adam’s eyes shot open and he was in Kyoto, not Khanka. The rays of morning light filtered out between the gaps in a sheet that was hung over the window, enough so that he could see the room around him. Even though he had been brought out of his dream, the effects of it lingered and he found himself still catching his breath. He sat up to try and steady himself, reaching his trembling hand to the floor. Instead it touched something smooth and cold. He didn’t have to look to know that he was feeling the same pair of glasses he had taken that night.

  He exhaled sharply and brought the glasses to his face. Even as he fitted them properly on the bridge of his nose, his hand remained unsteady. Adam brought his right hand up and gripped his wrist to steady it, forcing himself to stop. As he lowered his hands down, he saw the blood. It still looked wet, warm and fresh, dripping off of his fingertips and down his palms and wrists. It was the blood of his victims, blood that no matter how much he washed and scrubbed never disappeared, never dried.

  Adam pulled the covers off of himself; the blood could not stain them. He went over to the sheet blocking the window and tore it off. Light flooded into the room. His pupils constricted as he whipped his head away to escape the light.