Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A Shadow in the Twilight ❯ Chapter 11 ( Chapter 11 )

Chapter 11

The warm black veil of unconsciousness lifted off of Lluvia as she sensed day's first light breaking through the slotted breaks in the wooden blinds covering the window. Her weary body silently protested, just wanting to remain indefinitely melded to the softness of the futon's mattress. Her street-honed mind, however, was becoming exceedingly suspicious of this situation and thus made further rest impossible. When she finally propped herself up on the mattress, she turned to look around her, then rubbed the sleep from her eyes with grimy hands. Tristan was in the next futon, pale from the loss of blood, but sleeping the steady, trouble-free slumber of a child. Careful not to disrupt her friend's rest (as if she could given the sound of his deep snores), Lluvia pulled at the covers near the foot of his bed to find that the angry gash in his calf had been expertly bandaged. She couldn't even remember the last time when his skinny little leg had been that clean. With a careful eye and hand, she examined the handiwork and grunted in admiration of the skill applied. Satisfied with the way things were and that Tristan's wound was going to be all right, she arose to her feet and started taking visual inventory of their immediate surroundings.

If the lack of any ornate appointments in their current room was any indication, their rescuer lived simply enough, despite the obvious affluence of his neighbors. Lluvia was entertaining the idea of scouting around to see what she could scrounge up to eat when the soft rustle of a sliding shoji panel snapped her attention to the room's entrance. Almost as a reflex, she bounded off her futon and in a singular motion positioned herself in a protective stance between the entering sensei and her recumbent friend. The fierce light in her midnight eyes wordlessly met the question in his dark brown ones. His gentle eyes held no challenge in them, but only a kindly concern. The tenseness left her shoulders as she brought herself up to her full height, her sharp eyes never leaving his for a moment.

She had no idea why he kept staring at her, though she suspected it was for the same reason all the other horny males she'd ever encountered did. Despite the fact that she was somewhat undernourished for her age, the filth encrusting her face and body could not totally hide the fact that she was going to be a remarkably lovely young woman someday.

The teacher closed his eyes briefly, reaching out with his mind to gently probe into her thoughts. He delved unobtrusively into the recesses of her mind and encountered only a few rudimentary psychic shields blocking him access. He could sense a latent power abiding under the dirty layers she wore like a proud samurai's armor. Upon opening his eyes, he discovered an inquisitive look had replaced the wary feral one with which she'd greeted him.

He then asked if she would like something to eat and the kindly intonation in his voice nearly unsettled her. Throughout her lifetime, she'd always been attuned to sounds, voices in particular, and could detect spoken insincerity a mile away. However, something inside assured her that this man would never do anything to harm her or Tristan. A brief silent nod was all the reply she gave him in return. With that non-verbal acknowledgement, she and Tristan became part of the sensei's household.

The earlier incident with the chicken hawks was reported to the local authorities as a break-in gone horribly awry. Of course, the redoubtable sensei was obliged to defend himself, that much was a given. And the children? Why, they were his new students, of course! A couple of prodigies sent to him for further training, based upon a recommendation from a former notable acolyte.

While he was laying out this storyline to the police, Lluvia and Tristan merely knelt quietly on their mats, not contributing anything to the embellished tale. They actually looked the parts of little martial arts students, once thoroughly scrubbed and outfitted in some spare, but oversized gi's. Tristan's hair, despite repeated shampooing and rinsing, was a lost cause of wildly tangled russet waves. His light blue eyes held onto their practiced look of befuddlement during the interviews.

Lluvia had also taken advantage of an abundance of hot water to divest herself of years of accumulated dirt. The result was nothing short of astounding. The unblemished lilac-hued skin so long concealed by the dulling filth was luminous and the fluffy nimbus of white-gold on her head shone with a life of its own. After she'd bathed and clothed herself, she had looked into a full-length mirror for the first time in her life and could not readily recognize the creature staring back at her.

The sensei was the soul of patience with his two new charges. Tristan was very eager to please their guardian, but showed no real aptitude for martial arts. Lluvia, on the other hand, exhibited a whip-smart intellect and once shown a kata maneuver, would quickly master it, thereby adding it to her ever-expanding personal arsenal. Both children had basic reading skills, which they had acquired on their own, though mostly on the run. The sensei brought in tutors to refine their social and academic skills. As the weeks passed, he marveled at their innate abilities to adapt and mimic. For him, the most remarkable aspect of their personalities was that, once they developed a true sense of security, the two finally opened up and became the children that their harsh circumstances had so long denied them. It was during one of these peaceful interludes that the teacher chanced upon a sight that would set the tone for their respective futures.

It was already late that one evening and the sensei believed that Lluvia and Tristan were already nestled in their respective beds and had long retired. Muffled sounds originating from the far end of the house kept encroaching upon his ability to get any rest. Rousing himself, he donned a silk dressing robe and followed the suppressed sounds, which became more distinct as he neared. Childlike giggles and softly rendered music fell upon his ears. When he slowly slid open the shoji screen door to the training room, he found Tristan sitting cross-legged upon a large pillow. His clever little fingers were coaxing some tentative, but amazingly lovely sounds from a short-necked, four-stringed biwa that had hung unused upon the wall. Lluvia was dancing with her eyes closed, dressed in an over-sized ceremonial kimono dug up from somewhere in a storage closet. In her small hands, she held two large painted silk fans with which she mimicked the fluttering wings of a butterfly as it alit upon several imaginary blooms, looking for promised nectar. A beatific expression graced her young face as she spun trancelike around the room to the music.

Tristan was the first to sense the sensei's unobtrusive arrival and froze up with fear and embarrassment, quickly releasing his grip on the instrument. The discordant noise made when it hit the floor likewise startled Lluvia and she dropped the fans. Not knowing what to expect as a response from the teacher for disturbing his slumber, the two quickly assembled into a respectful kneeling position before him with guilty heads bowed, waiting for him to pass judgment. Two pairs of puzzled blue eyes snapped up in surprise when they heard the delighted laughter erupt from his mouth.

"Yeah, that sure was a hoot and a half!"

The jam session had finally wound down and Tristan had set down his synth-guit to come and join Bardock and Adarath. Flexing his nimble fingers and cracking his knuckles to release the tension in his joints, he blithely smiled at the Saiya-jin. "Master Masaki was certainly surprised when he'd found out that we'd been messing around late at night in the training room on a regular basis. Once he realized what we'd been up to, he modified our training to include professional musical instruction. Would you believe he even sent us to the pleasure space station at Qurana-sei to study with the singers and dancers working there?"

Bardock's ears perked up at the mention of the sensei's name. "Masaki? You don't mean the Akira Masaki?"

Tristan looked hard at Bardock and blinked. "Well, like, yeah! Who else? Listen, you guys, I have to call it a night. Jen's back has been giving her serious connips and I want to see if Yu-vee's massage did the trick!"

Bardock rose to accompany him. "I'll go with you."