Suzaku no Tabi: The Land of Visible Pain - I See You. - Part 1
Summary: Destination is a state of mind. Suzaku is a traveler. Sitting astride the Lancelot, an internal combustion companion, Suzaku is ready to embark on a journey unlike any other. Drift along for the ride.
Notes: This lovely bunny was adopted from shirogiku at cg_adopt_bunny. This fic is a fusion of Code Geass and Kino no Tabi, an amazing anime that everyone should see; however knowledge of Kino no Tabi is not necessary in order to understand and enjoy this fic.
Unfortunately my muse for this fic seems to have fizzled but I wanted to post the two chapters I’d finished. I might come back to this eventually, it’s hard to say.
Warning: May contain violence, various other disturbing themes and in extreme cases may cause the reader to stop and think.
***
Prologue: Beginner’s Luck Part A
***
The world…is not beautiful
****
A lone figure tore across the sandy desert, kicking up sand in every direction. This, along with the slowly building sandstorm, obscured the impractical white frame and gold detailing of the motorrad as well as the identity of the machine’s lone rider. The rider wore a thick dust colored overcoat, heavy gloves, and goggles, wisely covering every inch of his skin from the biting desert winds.
Finally, after hours or days riding through a seemingly endless desert, the rider came to a halt.
The rider cautiously dismounted, only barely remembering to use the motorrad’s kickstand to keep the machine upright at the last moment.
Was it a mirage? The rider wondered if the burning sun had finally gotten him. If soon the birds would be picking at his water-starved flesh while he lay beside his upturned motorrad and everything would be over before it even began.
But no.
There was something there.
There was.
He stumbled toward the mirage, longing to run, but barely managing to walk with muscles cramped and aching from countless hours astride his motorrad. He panted for air as he ran, his face mask slipping in his excitement.
This wasn’t a hallucination.
He began digging desperately, the sand sliding through his fingers like a cruel parody of water.
“This is no way to begin a journey,” a voice sternly interrupted from somewhere behind him.
The rider froze where he was. Silent. Listening.
“Why are we doing this?” the voice was cajoling now. “If we turn back now, we might still survive. Why don’t we go back to the Master?”
The rider’s hands tensed into fists, uselessly gripping the sand beneath him as he gasped for breath in the stifling heat.
“It’ll be no fault of mine if you dry up out here, Suzaku,” the voice reprimanded exasperatedly. “I wonder what will happen to me after the vultures are done picking your shriveled corpse clean? I foresee myself buried under millions of grains of sand right where I sit with only your bleached white bones for company. You may have a death wish, but I-”
“Enough!” Suzaku cried out, cutting off the maddening flow of words.
There was silence.
***
A half hour later Suzaku had managed a makeshift camp. He collapsed almost immediately after he finished, only staying upright long enough to strip off his overcoat, blue undercoat, vest, gloves, goggles and hat. He lay on his back with his arms crossed behind his head in a surprisingly comfortable imitation of a pillow and savored the respite from the burning white heat of the sun.
He dozed, drifting aimlessly on the border between sleep and wakefulness.
He felt absolutely nothing and did not mind the absence.
“Do you remember God?” the voice spoke to him again, pulling him firmly into wakefulness. Green eyes stared blankly up at the roof of the improvised shelter.
“This predicament is the god of travelers showing you that you are not meant to travel.”
“Maybe so,” Suzaku whispered, almost to himself.
“So what you gonna do about it?” the voice challenged.
Suzaku held up a hand, but did not turn to face the voice.
“Not now,” he said tiredly.
“Well, I know you never change your mind once you have it made up, but it’s decision time, kiddo. You must decide if we will return to the master….or, continue running headlong into our inevitable entombment beneath the endless shifting sands of this forsaken country.”
“I don’t like those choices,” Suzaku said lethargically, his eyes half open as he pointedly refused to rise to the voice’s baiting.
“Suzaku,” the voice chided. “The most important asset to a traveler is decisiveness. This holds true for both rookie and veteran. Am I wrong?”
Emerald green eyes widened in surprise as he felt a shift in the air. Completely ignoring the question that lingered heavy across the camp, he leapt to his feet and climbed out of the tent.
“Suzaku?”
“Lancelot.” The name was a tired sigh dragged out of the teen’s mouth and carried off in a gust of wind.
“What’s wrong?” Lancelot asked worriedly.
Suzaku glanced over his shoulder at the white and gold motorrad before turning his attention to the sky.
“A traveler’s most important asset is that which helps you get back up after a struggle has left you so close to the end,” the teen said pensively.
“What’s that?” The motorrad asked.
Suzaku watched the rolling black clouds bubbling up over the horizon with calm green eyes.
“I know it, as luck,” he said and smiled faintly as the first drop of rain fell on his upturned face.
Notes: This lovely bunny was adopted from shirogiku at cg_adopt_bunny. This fic is a fusion of Code Geass and Kino no Tabi, an amazing anime that everyone should see; however knowledge of Kino no Tabi is not necessary in order to understand and enjoy this fic.
Unfortunately my muse for this fic seems to have fizzled but I wanted to post the two chapters I’d finished. I might come back to this eventually, it’s hard to say.
Warning: May contain violence, various other disturbing themes and in extreme cases may cause the reader to stop and think.
***
Prologue: Beginner’s Luck Part A
***
The world…is not beautiful
****
A lone figure tore across the sandy desert, kicking up sand in every direction. This, along with the slowly building sandstorm, obscured the impractical white frame and gold detailing of the motorrad as well as the identity of the machine’s lone rider. The rider wore a thick dust colored overcoat, heavy gloves, and goggles, wisely covering every inch of his skin from the biting desert winds.
Finally, after hours or days riding through a seemingly endless desert, the rider came to a halt.
The rider cautiously dismounted, only barely remembering to use the motorrad’s kickstand to keep the machine upright at the last moment.
Was it a mirage? The rider wondered if the burning sun had finally gotten him. If soon the birds would be picking at his water-starved flesh while he lay beside his upturned motorrad and everything would be over before it even began.
But no.
There was something there.
There was.
He stumbled toward the mirage, longing to run, but barely managing to walk with muscles cramped and aching from countless hours astride his motorrad. He panted for air as he ran, his face mask slipping in his excitement.
This wasn’t a hallucination.
He began digging desperately, the sand sliding through his fingers like a cruel parody of water.
“This is no way to begin a journey,” a voice sternly interrupted from somewhere behind him.
The rider froze where he was. Silent. Listening.
“Why are we doing this?” the voice was cajoling now. “If we turn back now, we might still survive. Why don’t we go back to the Master?”
The rider’s hands tensed into fists, uselessly gripping the sand beneath him as he gasped for breath in the stifling heat.
“It’ll be no fault of mine if you dry up out here, Suzaku,” the voice reprimanded exasperatedly. “I wonder what will happen to me after the vultures are done picking your shriveled corpse clean? I foresee myself buried under millions of grains of sand right where I sit with only your bleached white bones for company. You may have a death wish, but I-”
“Enough!” Suzaku cried out, cutting off the maddening flow of words.
There was silence.
***
A half hour later Suzaku had managed a makeshift camp. He collapsed almost immediately after he finished, only staying upright long enough to strip off his overcoat, blue undercoat, vest, gloves, goggles and hat. He lay on his back with his arms crossed behind his head in a surprisingly comfortable imitation of a pillow and savored the respite from the burning white heat of the sun.
He dozed, drifting aimlessly on the border between sleep and wakefulness.
He felt absolutely nothing and did not mind the absence.
“Do you remember God?” the voice spoke to him again, pulling him firmly into wakefulness. Green eyes stared blankly up at the roof of the improvised shelter.
“This predicament is the god of travelers showing you that you are not meant to travel.”
“Maybe so,” Suzaku whispered, almost to himself.
“So what you gonna do about it?” the voice challenged.
Suzaku held up a hand, but did not turn to face the voice.
“Not now,” he said tiredly.
“Well, I know you never change your mind once you have it made up, but it’s decision time, kiddo. You must decide if we will return to the master….or, continue running headlong into our inevitable entombment beneath the endless shifting sands of this forsaken country.”
“I don’t like those choices,” Suzaku said lethargically, his eyes half open as he pointedly refused to rise to the voice’s baiting.
“Suzaku,” the voice chided. “The most important asset to a traveler is decisiveness. This holds true for both rookie and veteran. Am I wrong?”
Emerald green eyes widened in surprise as he felt a shift in the air. Completely ignoring the question that lingered heavy across the camp, he leapt to his feet and climbed out of the tent.
“Suzaku?”
“Lancelot.” The name was a tired sigh dragged out of the teen’s mouth and carried off in a gust of wind.
“What’s wrong?” Lancelot asked worriedly.
Suzaku glanced over his shoulder at the white and gold motorrad before turning his attention to the sky.
“A traveler’s most important asset is that which helps you get back up after a struggle has left you so close to the end,” the teen said pensively.
“What’s that?” The motorrad asked.
Suzaku watched the rolling black clouds bubbling up over the horizon with calm green eyes.
“I know it, as luck,” he said and smiled faintly as the first drop of rain fell on his upturned face.