Fic: birth
Title: Birth
Part I: When duty calls...
Part II: the young ones don't listen...
Part III: and that makes strange friends...
Part IV: who turn on each other... **warning**
Part V (plus corollary): until nothing remains. **warning**
Overall word count: ~ 4400
whos/*warnings*: background rambling about the phoenix cloth. Explicit non consensual relations in parts IV and V.
Disclaimer: He who chipped away from the stone of his imagination, a tiny bit at a time, to come up with all the details that make StS owns it (aka Kurumada). They who paid for it own it in different ways (aka Toei, Shueisha and whoever else). I just take pictures of the thing and paint mustaches hoping the big people won't be pissed by it.
He was in that strange age, when boys are not yet men but nobody would call them children. And yet, there was something childish in the way he sat by the river, legs crossed and stone in hand.
- “It is what must be done”
He, who was of his own blood and flesh, just shrugged and didn’t take his eyes off the water, waiting for the fish to jump up.
The man stood in a rock right above his head. He himself had taught the child how to do this, the patience, the perfection that were required. He had been immensely proud of how fast the kid had learnt. But that seemed years in the past now.
- “You have a duty to the past and the future of our kind, and to the goddess”
The boy’s arm swung in an arch, throwing the rock. He heard the whistling of the stone and the splash of water as the kid jumped into the river to recuperate the fish he had killed.
Fish didn’t come near the riversides in the valley, and spent most of the time buried in the muddy riverbed. The legend said the fish spent all their lives in the bottom, coming out only once, at the peak of their lives, to impress the river life with their majestic jump.
The Phoenix saint pondered for a second how similar his kind was to this rare fish. He and his ancestors had always lived in this hidden valley, away from everything, and only rarely they would jump into the world, at Athena’s call.
Athena. The boy was back on the rock, holding the fish from its dead mouth. The green scales had been broken where the rock hit, and the man couldn’t but smile seeing how the pebble had penetrated the armor-like scales. The kid was strong, and precise. He was, in every possible way, ready. And there wasn’t that much time.
The man was old, and the time was coming. He could feel it in his bones, the call of old age, the call of fire. He was almost 500 years old, and he knew he probably wouldn’t live to see even fifteen more. The ceremony had to be completed, the old phoenix should die and a new one reborn from its ashes.
The kid brushed past, not looking him in the eye. But the boy who should be the baby phoenix refused.
The Phoenix Saint looked into the murky waters, thinking. He had all the knowledge of the phoenixes before him, he was them. He became them when his antecessor had consummated the ceremony of the fire with him, centuries ago.
He remembered the pyre, flames climbing tall to the sky, the clamor of power so loud that the villagers had remained in their houses for days after -still fearing the end of the world. There had been pain when he had walked into the fire, scorching hell on his young flesh as the old man had embraced him, disintegrated in his arms. He must have screamed, although he doesn’t remember it. The surge of raw power that had run through his veins when the old phoenix died, making him into the new immortal bird, had numbed everything around him for a second. And then the pain and the doubt were gone.
He had become Phoenix, and with his new power he had turned the bones in his hands to powder. The immortal bird had been made anew in him and he would not fear death anymore.
Another fish jumped up, presumably to see the light for the only time in his life. It was truly a beautiful spectacle, and one with profound meaning.
Seconds later, dozens of fish laid dead on the surface, undistinguishable from the jumping one in the boiling water of the river, as the phoenix walked away in anger.
Go to part II
Part I: When duty calls...
Part II: the young ones don't listen...
Part III: and that makes strange friends...
Part IV: who turn on each other... **warning**
Part V (plus corollary): until nothing remains. **warning**
Overall word count: ~ 4400
whos/*warnings*: background rambling about the phoenix cloth. Explicit non consensual relations in parts IV and V.
Disclaimer: He who chipped away from the stone of his imagination, a tiny bit at a time, to come up with all the details that make StS owns it (aka Kurumada). They who paid for it own it in different ways (aka Toei, Shueisha and whoever else). I just take pictures of the thing and paint mustaches hoping the big people won't be pissed by it.
He was in that strange age, when boys are not yet men but nobody would call them children. And yet, there was something childish in the way he sat by the river, legs crossed and stone in hand.
- “It is what must be done”
He, who was of his own blood and flesh, just shrugged and didn’t take his eyes off the water, waiting for the fish to jump up.
The man stood in a rock right above his head. He himself had taught the child how to do this, the patience, the perfection that were required. He had been immensely proud of how fast the kid had learnt. But that seemed years in the past now.
- “You have a duty to the past and the future of our kind, and to the goddess”
The boy’s arm swung in an arch, throwing the rock. He heard the whistling of the stone and the splash of water as the kid jumped into the river to recuperate the fish he had killed.
Fish didn’t come near the riversides in the valley, and spent most of the time buried in the muddy riverbed. The legend said the fish spent all their lives in the bottom, coming out only once, at the peak of their lives, to impress the river life with their majestic jump.
The Phoenix saint pondered for a second how similar his kind was to this rare fish. He and his ancestors had always lived in this hidden valley, away from everything, and only rarely they would jump into the world, at Athena’s call.
Athena. The boy was back on the rock, holding the fish from its dead mouth. The green scales had been broken where the rock hit, and the man couldn’t but smile seeing how the pebble had penetrated the armor-like scales. The kid was strong, and precise. He was, in every possible way, ready. And there wasn’t that much time.
The man was old, and the time was coming. He could feel it in his bones, the call of old age, the call of fire. He was almost 500 years old, and he knew he probably wouldn’t live to see even fifteen more. The ceremony had to be completed, the old phoenix should die and a new one reborn from its ashes.
The kid brushed past, not looking him in the eye. But the boy who should be the baby phoenix refused.
The Phoenix Saint looked into the murky waters, thinking. He had all the knowledge of the phoenixes before him, he was them. He became them when his antecessor had consummated the ceremony of the fire with him, centuries ago.
He remembered the pyre, flames climbing tall to the sky, the clamor of power so loud that the villagers had remained in their houses for days after -still fearing the end of the world. There had been pain when he had walked into the fire, scorching hell on his young flesh as the old man had embraced him, disintegrated in his arms. He must have screamed, although he doesn’t remember it. The surge of raw power that had run through his veins when the old phoenix died, making him into the new immortal bird, had numbed everything around him for a second. And then the pain and the doubt were gone.
He had become Phoenix, and with his new power he had turned the bones in his hands to powder. The immortal bird had been made anew in him and he would not fear death anymore.
Another fish jumped up, presumably to see the light for the only time in his life. It was truly a beautiful spectacle, and one with profound meaning.
Seconds later, dozens of fish laid dead on the surface, undistinguishable from the jumping one in the boiling water of the river, as the phoenix walked away in anger.
Go to part II