Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Resonators ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

Oh yes, I forgot this in the prologue:

Disclaimer: I don't own. Don't sue me.

Resonators

Chapter1

By: squishybookworm

I use some Japanese weapons in this story. They are as follows:

Bokuto- A one edged wooden practice sword, curved like a katana.

Katana- A one edged, curved blade. You know, those swords you always see the samurai use.

Tonfas- Can be used in pairs or only one. They're basically a longer stick with a shorter part (the handle) crossed perpendicular to it. Like those clubs policemen carry.

Naginata- A long pole with a single edged blade at one end. Primarily a woman's weapon because it is so light.

"Alone. . . ." she whispered. "Always . . . alone. . . ."

"Yessss," it hissed. "You'll always be alone. They abandoned you. They left you. None of them cared. They didn't want you. So, you'll always be alone. That is your destiny. Your fate."

"My . . . fate. . . . My . . . destiny . . . alone. . . ."

"Yessss."

Jeri opened her eyes slowly and took a shuddering breath. Wet tracks seeped from the corner of her eyes and past her temples as she stared through a new blur of tears at the ceiling of her high-canopied bed. The same dream again. What was it? What did it mean?

She turned her head slowly to look at her husband's relaxed form. He was on his side with his back to her and one bare shoulder protruding from under the burgundy coverlet. Had she been desperate enough, she would have snuggled up to his back in an attempt to rid herself of the overwhelming sense of loneliness that inevitably accompanied her with the dreams, but she could not. His warmth was a cold one and she longed for another's touch.

Slipping from under the covers, she reached for a robe to cover her nude form and to protect herself from the early morning chill, despite the roaring fire in the fireplace across the large room. She padded barefoot across the plush carpet and settled on the window ledge, staring at the first signs of activities happening in the courtyard below. Sound was muted by the thick glass window. Slowly the coldness of her seat became warmed with her body heat and she shifted into a more comfortable position to ponder the significance of her dreams.

They began several weeks ago when it had first appeared. A strange little girl with striated golden eyes.

There had been a fierce storm that had struck with sudden fury and had forced everyone to bolt their doors and pray the winds would not blow the great stone keep over. Rain had pounded against the roof like a drum of war as everyone settled in the great hall for supper. Before the wine could be poured, there was a loud CRACK! Like splintered wood and the large wooden doors blew open. People screamed and scrambled back. Servants dropped platters of food. A crockery of wine shattered near Jeri's foot and soaked her dress, but she did not notice. Splinters flew through the air and one neatly sliced Jeri's cheekbone, but she did not notice. Not when the wound slowly reddened. Not when the blood seeped out. And not when it slid slowly down her cheek.

A girl stood in the center of the door. Her head lowered, short hair matted to her head and her thin, short dress wrapping about her body in sodden folds as the wind continued to howl, blowing great gusts of rain to soak the tables near the door. Her alabaster skin seemed to glow, and her thin limbs did not tremble although the temperature was that of late winter.

Then she lifted her head. And smiled. Her striated golden eyes staring straight at Jeri.

After a moment of silence, her husband had laughed, ordering his men to lock the girl up for daring to disturb his hall. All the while she was being led away, the girl's gaze never left Jeri's. The next day, as Jeri was making her way to breakfast, she found the girl walking down the stairs in her husband's company. Her dry hair shone with a vibrant red hue, emphasizing her eerie golden eyes and wide smile. Unnerved, Jeri had hurried ahead of the two. At breakfast, her husband had announced in his usual booming voice that the girl had been adopted into the Shioda family of Raleigh and as his daughter, she would be accorded the respect of her station. Then he'd boomed into laughter, which was not uncommon. But underneath, Jeri could detect a touch of madness that had made her flee from the hall as fast as she could. And the little girl's gaze tracked her running form the entire time.

Jeri blew a breath she'd been unconsciously holding and wrapped her arms about her legs. The chill from the window had soaked into her being and she could not stop shivering.

Over the past few weeks, she'd neatly avoided being alone with Ruri, the little girl, but whenever they were in the same room, the golden eyes would follow her every movement. This so unnerved Jeri, she was beginning to feel the eyes even when Ruri was not present.

Then the dreams began. It was always dark and she could see nothing, but every time there were two voices. At first, they were like distant echoes. Soft murmurs that made no sense. Then, gradually, the voices became clearer. Tonight she'd detected faint fuzziness, like looking through water with a cotton cloth over her eyes and it was night.

Jeri hugged her legs closer. She considered writing a letter to her mother of the happenings. Just as quickly, she dismissed it. Her mother would not believe her. The situation was just too strange. She knew her maids would believe her, but they were too timid and she hadn't the heart to drag them into it and as the Duchess of Raleigh, she could not confide her fears to just anyone. She buried her face into her knees.

"Takato," she whispered, "I wish you were here. . . ."

She swung the bokuto in a wide arc. It whistled through the air as if tangibly cleaving the soft breeze that wafted into the practice courtyard. There was a loud thwack as the blade struck her opponent's side and he grunted. They froze for a moment. Then with a low groan, he sank to his knees, clutching his side. His own practice sword clattered onto the smooth stone surface beneath and as the last sounds faded away, his attacker sighed. With audible disgust.

"You're still too slow, Van!" she barked. "You're not aggressive enough!" She brushed back the few strawberry blond strands that had escaped her tight ponytail and glared down at the young man at her feet. His loose red shirt barely hid the beginnings of an ugly bruise. She wondered briefly what his fiancee would think of such a mark. Would she squeal and simper at his "manly scars"? Or would she cluck her tongue and try to bury him under her gentle ministrations? No, more likely, the young Hitomi would bind him up efficiently and admonish her fiancé for being so careless. This almost made the woman quirk a smile.

"Yes . . . Echo. . . Nonaka. . . ." Van bit out. Then he paused to gasp painfully, before standing up slowly and painfully. He bowed carefully, only managing to wince as the position caused new flashes of pain to shoot through his torso. "Thank-you for the practice, Nonaka Rika."

"Very well," she replied, returning his bow. "You may take an hour to rest, but no more. Your technique is good, but your strikes lack commitment and you shall work on this. I'll inform your mentor and you are excused."

He nodded before walking away. Past the arches of the entrance to the courtyard, a woman approached him. Rika recognized Hitomi with her unusually short hairstyle. They exchanged a few words before Van turned away abruptly, batting Hitomi's hand when she tried to yank up his shirt to get a good look at the injury. They argued for a bit, but in the end Hitomi, with a triumphant smile, led Van away; all the while poking and prodding his side.

Rika turned away with a slight frown. She absently wiped away the sweat that had already gathered on her brow, despite the cool early morning air. She would never understand those two, but she'd found Hitomi to be a practical and wise person and Van, a bit moody, but kind all the same. They were several years her senior, but had been two of the very first to congratulate her when she'd received her Echo signet over older students such as they, themselves. And they'd been very sincere. A trait she'd come to appreciate.

Rika searched the few students and mentor in the huge yard. All were engaged in sparring of some sort and all were sweating, although not profusely due to the slight nip the wind carried. Some were practicing hand to hand, while some particularly skilled mentors went barehanded against their students with a weapon, and the rest fought against each other with weapons. However there were two standing uncertainly near the open archway. A boy with large glasses fiddled with his tonfas, refusing to meet her eyes, while the other, a woman, met her gaze boldly. Rika fought against the urge to rub her temples. They were obviously new. And the only ones unmentored. With an inaudible sigh, Rika beckoned to the dark-haired woman, who seemed somewhat more collected than the other.

The Ohtori Academy supposedly trained individuals with active di-genes for actual combat against the Mistakes. An Echo, one who'd graduated from the Academy, was expected to take on a personal apprentice and train that student in his style of combat and to take the student into battle with him. But some Echoes, like Rika, herself, preferred working alone. To avoid loss of her particular skills, the Academy stipulated that she spend time in the practice courtyard, coaching those without a mentor and even those with a mentor.

Not for the first time, Rika mentally wished that particular rule could just rot. She had nothing against the new students in particular, but in a sparring session with someone like herself, anyone knew they would hardly last three seconds, and she was just too impatient to do her coaching any other way.

So as the dark-haired woman approached her carrying a naginata, Rika could hardly suppress a grimace. Rika bowed in greeting and the woman returned it just as formally.

"I am Nona-"

"Are you really an Echo?" The woman stared doubtfully at the signet pin pinned to Rika's plain linen tunic.

Rika frowned slightly, but said nothing.

"You just seem a little young. I mean, you look like you're younger than me! And," she looked pointedly at Rika's bokuto, "is that not a bit . . . strange for a young lady?"

Rika took a slow deep breath and reminded herself that the woman was still a student of the Academy and should not be harmed unduly. "Age has no bearing on my abilities, ma'am, and I find a katanamore versatile than any other weapon."

The woman frowned, her mouth twisting slightly.

"Shall we get started?" Rika asked, shifting into a neutral stance, her wooden blade held out before her, neither attacking nor defending, but ready to shift to either one.

"Wait! What am I supposed to do?!"

"Battle."

"But-but aren't you supposed to teach me?!" The woman's voice had risen to an interesting octave by the last syllable.

Rika didn't care. "Lesson number one: Always be ready." With that she charged. Wind streamed across her cheeks like a silk sheet as she went from stillness to sudden motion. She brought her weapon up for the woman's open head. A quick kill in a real battle if the woman did not block. "HYAA!"

"Ungh!" The woman threw up her weapon just in time.

Rika's eyes flashed. She changed the trajectory of her blade slightly.

CRACK! Her bokuto connected painfully across the woman's knuckles.

"Ow!" The naginata fell with a sharp 'tunk!' It clacked hollowly against the ground several times before rolling to a stop by the woman's foot.

She backpedaled away rapidly, then glared. "Of course, a disgusting peasant would have no idea of fair play."

"No intuition," Rika replied evenly.

The woman sneered, her red lips parting to show even, white teeth. "What would a vile commonerknow?" She picked up her weapon and held it at ready. "I'll have you know that you have just struck Lady Mana de Ghent, the Rose Drop of the House of Ghent! For your ill manners, you shall not be forgiven! Get ready-Aah!"

Mana barely managed to bring her naginata up again as Rika's weapon whistled towards her head.

"Unruly insect! Yaaaah!" She swung the blade in a wide arc, straight for Rika's torso. She held nothing back, putting her full weight behind the swing. Too easy.

K-TONK!

Wooden blade met wooden blade and the shock traveled down the length to Rika's hands. But she was accustomed to such vibrations. And she'd braced herself accordingly for the vicious attack.

Unfortunately, it seemed, the other woman was not. She gasped, stumbled back from the force of the contact, and almost dropped her weapon again.

Rika leapt back out of range and said, "No skill."

A slow red flush crept up Mana's neck to suffuse her cheeks. Her dark eyes glittered malevolently as she gripped her naginata so hard her knuckles turned white. "Lowly wench," she growled, "you'll die. You'll die slowly."

A wind, unfelt before, whipped angrily, whirling around Mana and obscuring her eyes with her long dark hair for a moment. Rika shivered slightly, feeling a faint tingle travel along her skin. Surely the woman wouldn't . . . Not over something this minor. . . .

With a sharp crack like wet cloth slapped over granite rocks, the wind reversed and cleared Mana's eyes. Eyes that glittered an almost obsidian, like chips of black ice.

Tightening her grip on her practice blade, Rika scowled and adjusted her stance. Dammit! The little twit! What did she think she was doing?! Vibrations for a petty spar like this?!

Then Mana struck.

She brought the butt of her weapon in first, trying to gouge Rika's stomach. Her strike was fast! So fast, Rika barely managed to twist and bring her elbow up to jab Mana's face. Red droplets flew into the air, a metallic scent invaded Rika's nostrils, and something wet and warm splattered across her arm. Distantly, she heard a pained cry mixed with rage.

"Vicious, blood-sucking flea!"

Rika felt, more than heard, Mana shift her weight to bring the bladed end of her naginatato sweep Rika's legs. She swept her bokuto, scoring a path of scattered dust into the stone, to meet the other weapon.

CLACK!

Then she dropped, placing her knee behind the blade to keep it in place. Even with this extra leverage, Mana managed to push her back slightly. Huffing lightly, Rika glanced up.

The dark-haired woman was panting already. Breath sawing between her lips that had paled dramatically in the last few seconds. Sweat tracked runnels through her dark hair and tendrils snaked about her face messily, clinging to her wet cheeks. A bright delta of red streamed from her nose and down to her chin where the scarlet liquid dripped steadily like water droplets falling off a melting icicle.

It splattered against the naginata pole, creating paints of crimson blossoms.

Mana's eyes flickered. Becoming brown, then black, then brown, and black again. A tremor swept her body, and she blinked. Her eyes were black. She was gasping, a furrow creasing her brow. She bared her teeth and heaved, bringing the other end of the naginataaround in a blurred arc.

Not bothering to dodge or block, Rika twirled her sword up and sliced the woman. The blunted edge of the wooden sword prevented her from actually slicing her opponent open, but the strength behind the blow was enough to knock Mana's weapon away and push her off her feet. Her weapon flew from her hands and she landed on her bottom with a strangled cry.

Clutching her nose, Mana looked up with tear-filled eyes. Brown eyes. Rika heaved a mental sigh of relief. She really did not want to Vibrate for something this minor.

"No control," Rika said simply.

"M-my nose . . ." Mana's voice came through, muffled by her hands and bawling. "Y-you broke my nose!"

Rika wanted to smile vindictively. It was no less than the spoiled wench deserved! "Foolishly using your di-gene abilities without proper training. Thinking you could defeat me with power alone. No sense of control whatsoever. How . . . childish. . . ." Rika turned smartly and stalked off. "This is your lesson. You are excused."

"Tramp!" Mana shrieked. "The Ohtori council shall hear of this! I shall have you expelled! Strip your clothes off and whip you! Drag you through the streets! I'll break you! I'll kill you!"

Her screeches gradually faded into bawling once more, but no one approached her. Everyone there knew and respected Rika, and they despised such disrespectful behavior even more. The case would have been different if it had been midday and the courtyard full of the student and mentor nobles. Rika was surprised Lady Mana had come down so early as she did.

By the entrance, she glared at the bespectacled student, who meekly lowered his gaze and found something else interesting to look at.

Great. Another noble. Little more than a boy.

Loud clapping caused her to shift her gaze and spare the poor, squirming boy, who almost sagged in relief.

Her mood fouled even further. Violet eyes hardening, Rika curled her fingers into fists to resist laying one on Ryo's smirk. Doing one noble in was enough for Rika that day. She blinked. Great Shiuchon! What was the world coming to?! This many nobles this early in the morning?!

"What are you doing here?" Rika demanded.

"Admiring the Ladies in their endeavor to protect the weak men from Mistake attacks." Ryo's grin never wavered.

Rika had to admire his ability to spout such garbage with such a straight face. She told him so.

His grin dropped and his mouth twisted. "You don't have to be such a sour prude. It wouldn't hurt you to act just a little less like a heathen."

"Which is more than I could say of you."

"Brat."

"Jerk."

He sighed, waving his hand as if to ward off an unpleasant stench. "Look, I'm not here to argue with you, alright?"

Rika folded her arms and arched one eyebrow in disbelief.

"I'm not! I have a message to deliver: You and I, accompanied by a student, are to investigate a Vibration. The Tuners sensed three of them earlier this morning and have finally pinpointed the sources."

A slow, savage grin managed to snake across Rika's face. She must look like a mad woman, but she didn't care. "They sensed three of them, you said? Why don't you and the student take one and I'll take the others."

"It doesn't work that way, Rika. Besides, two of the three were within three feet of each other and that is the one we'll be looking into."

"Then who's investigating the other one?"

"Balgus and his student, Van."

"Van can't do it. He's injured."

"What?!" Ryo covered his eyes and sighed. "Rika, what did you do to him?"

"It was a sparring match," she countered defensively, "Of course he's expected to receive his share of pain."

"You mean like her?" He jerked his thumb at Mana, whose bawling had become even louder.

"Her di-genes should be deactivated," Rika said bluntly. "She's nothing but a bully."

"She's a noble, Rika."

"So?"

"So? Rika, there are repercussions for things like this, even if you are a noble yourself."

Rika shrugged, "I'll deal with it. Now stay out of it. It's none of your business."

He raised his arms as if to ward off a blow. "Fine, fine. Whatever you say." He glanced at the bespectacled student trying to melt into the wall. "Hey." Ryo smiled winningly and the boy returned it shyly. "What's your name?"

Alarmed, Rika shook her head and stood before the student. "Oh no, Ryo! He's still green. I haven't even had time to see his abilities yet."

Ryo shrugged, "It's like you always say, Rika: What better way to hone one's skill than in battle."

"I meant after a reasonable amount of practice," Rika seethed.

"Um . . . Excuse me?" the boy asked timidly.

"So you're saying you're wrong?"

". . . Hello?"

"You're even denser than I thought."

". . . Hey. . . ?"

"Don't bite my head off just because you're a hypocrite."

"You can just rot, Ryo."

"HEY!"

Both Echoes turned to the boy, who flushed under their combined gazes, but he raised his chin defiantly. "I-If you'd allow it, I-I would l-like to accompany you. If you," he took a deep breath, "still doubt my abilities, I'll battle you right here and now." He kept his dark blue eyes steadily trained on Rika's.

After a moment, Rika broke the silence, "We don't have time for that. Let me see your hands."

Surprised the boy held out his hands, and Rika scrutinized them carefully. She was expecting the soft, smooth hands of one who'd never had to work hard his entire life, and was therefore surprised to find calluses across the ridge of his palm, and a few small white scars criss-crossing the backs of his hand. Appraising him again, she found her initial assessment had been misleading. His baggy practice tunic made him seem scrawny, but in reality hid a wiry strength that had been honed through years of practice. From the small smirk on Ryo's face, Rika suspected he had noticed that and planned for this all along. Dammit! That conniving, little bastard!

"What is your name?" Rika asked reluctantly.

"Kenta Kitagawa." He belatedly added, "Echo ma'am."

"Don't call me 'ma'am'."

"Yes, Echo ma-I mean . . . er . . ."

"Her name is Rika Nonaka," Ryo said. "And I am Ryo Akiyama. Welcome to the team!"

Rika rolled her eyes.

Kenta beamed and gave a short bow, "Thank-you!"

"You shouldn't be thanking us," Rika muttered. "We're probably gonna get you killed. . . ."

A/N: I'd like to hear your thoughts and criticisms. Please review!