Fushigi Yuugi Fan Fiction ❯ Kaerimichi ❯ Dreams ( Chapter 1 )

It was that strange place again. Corey let her gaze wander about the landscape that was becoming more and more familiar; she dreamed about it a lot these days. But where was it? The land was greener than anything she'd ever seen, and they certainly didn't have skies this clear in Tokyo. Even the air seemed cleaner.

 

The buildings that could be seen in the distance appeared in good condition, maybe even new, at least from her vantage point. But… they looked like houses in old paintings and history books. Corey smiled as she strolled leisurely across the grass. She must have been studying too hard.

 

The young schoolgirl stopped; there was someone else here. She turned around, looking for the strange presence she had just felt only to find herself quite alone. How odd… she had been sure… Turning back around, Corey gave a start.

 

A magnificent bird stood before her, crimson plumage glittering in the afternoon sun. Corey was speechless- never had she seen such a creature. It looked almost like… a phoenix. Warm comfort radiated from the great beast like tangible heat, and she found herself inexplicably drawn to it. She took one step toward it then another. It was calling to her, beckoning her closer with its large, sparkling golden eyes. She could have sworn that, at any moment, it would speak.

 

“Kou, are you paying attention?”

 

 

 

The dream world vanished instantly, replaced by the familiar sight of tables, chairs, and fellow students. She'd fallen asleep in Study Hall again. Corey sat up so quickly that she upset her chair, uttering a small cry as she fell backwards with it.

 

A chorus of laughs rang out, washing over the disoriented girl. She blinked a few times, regaining her composure. A pout tugged at her lips, and Corey chucked one of her fallen books at the boy who had been sitting opposite her. He echoed her yell, losing his balance as well in trying to avoid the projectile text. The laughter of the others at the table burst out even louder.

 

“Kouri!” the boy whined in his thick Japanese accent.

 

“Alekusu!” Corey whined right back, her own voice still holding its east coast American twinge.

 

“Oi!” yelled the Study Hall professor. “Keep it down or you'll all get detention!” His words left a less-than threatening impression on all the teenagers as the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. Goodbye's were muttered as the students packed up and hurried out, leaving Corey and Alex still sitting on the floor.

 

“Look at that, you almost got us all in trouble, you klutz,” Alex sniped jestingly.

 

“What?!” Corey countered. “You totally started it. It's all your fault.”

 

“Me? I can't be held responsible for laughing at you when you're being a total doofus.”

 

“Doofus?!” Corey picked up another book with mock menace. Alex threw his hands up in defense, shaking his head.

 

“All right, I give. Yeesh, you're a savage.”

 

“And you're a priss. See? This is why we work so well together. It's all about balance.” Nodding sagely, Corey stood up and began collecting her things.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex replied with a roll of his eyes. “Whatever you say. Come on,” he continued as he retrieved his own belongings. “No cram school today. I want to get some ice cream to celebrate.”

 

Corey chuckled, swinging her backpack over her shoulder. “Ice cream? All you ever eat is junk. You're gonna get fat if you keep this up, you know.”

 

“Hey!” Alex exclaimed indignantly. “Who asked for your opinion anyway, kaijuu?*” Knowing exactly what kind of reaction the nickname would evoke from the redhead, he pushed away from the table and sprinted for the door.

 

“Don't call me that!” Corey yelled, darting after her best friend, a string of threats tumbling out of her mouth as she went.

 

 

 

It was early evening by the time Corey and Alex returned to their house. With the weather having been so nice, the two had opted to do their homework in the part and lounged about afterward, simply enjoying the sunlight. As the day wore on, they both reluctantly accepted that they must return home.

 

Stepping through the front door, Alex kicked off his shoes and dropped his backpack haphazardly on the landing before running further into the house. “Mom, we're home! Whatever you're cooking, it smells delicious.”

 

Corey smiled and shook her head. That boy had a bottomless pit in place of a stomach. She slid off her own shoes, taking a moment to put Alex's away properly as well. She hung her backpack up, retrieving his from the floor, placing it on the hook next to hers, and started making her way to the kitchen.

 

Jessica Noble, Alex's mother, stood in front of the stove, her hands moving gracefully from one bubbling pot to another. Every burner on the range top was occupied. Without missing a beat of her cooking rhythm, Jessica turned her head to greet her charge.

 

“Oh, Corey, you got a package today,” she said, hands still stirring and working automatically. “I put it up on your bed, dear. I think it might be something else from your parents' estate.”

 

Corey's heart jumped at the mention of her parents, but the sudden jolt of pain that shot through her was masked by a well-placed smile.

 

“Thanks, Mrs. Noble,” she replied politely. “I'll take a look at it after dinner.”

 

“Please, Corey,” the older woman started as she dumped the contents of one of the pots into a colander. “You're been living here for months. Your mother and I were good friends, and I've known you since you were knee-high to a grasshopper. You don't have to keep calling me `Mrs. Noble.' `Jessica' will do just fine.”

 

A small smile alighted Corey's features. “Thanks, Jessica.” The name felt strange, but comfortable coming out of her mouth. She could definitely get used to it, though.

 

 

 

All in all, Corey thought she did a fantastic job containing her excitement about the mystery package all throughout dinner, cleaning up after dinner, and dessert. It was getting rather late by the time Corey could inconspicuously steal away to her room for the night. Once inside, she rushed to the small parcel lying in the middle of her bed. She felt like a kid on Christmas as she ripped the wrappings off, nearly giddy with anticipation.

 

It was a book, and a rather old one at that. The red leather bindings were worn soft with time and felt as smooth as silk beneath Corey's fingers. Pages that must have once been crisp and white were now wrinkled, the edges yellowing with age. She brought the ancient-looking tome closer to her face, breathing in its scent. She smelled moth balls and cedar, a hint of the sweet perfume her mother used to wear, and the sharp odor of Grandfather's pipe. It smelled timeless.

 

Corey pulled the front cover open. Immediately, she could see discolorations where oils from someone's hand had touched the pages many times; this book had been well-loved. She ran her own fingers across the weathered paper almost respectfully, a wide smile splitting across her face.

 

A knock at her door brought Corey out of her reverie. “Come in,” she called out, lowering the book to give her visitor proper attention. Alex's head popped in past the slightly open door. “Hey.”

 

“Hey,” he greeted in return as he padded the rest of the way into Corey's room. “So, what's this mysterious package mom mentioned?”

 

Corey's hand traced again across the faded leather affectionately before answering, her happy expression still in place. “It's the story Grandma wrote about her and Grandpa and Aunt Yui.”

 

Alex gawked. “The one she used to read to you when you visited?”

 

Corey nodded her confirmation.

 

“Oh man,” Alex breathed. “I can't believe you actually have it. You've got to let me read it all the way through sometime. All the things you told me about it… You have to.”

 

“Okay, okay,” Corey said with a laugh. “Calm down before you start hyperventilating or something.” She laughed again when her friend stuck his tongue out at her. “Oh, yeah, that's mature.”

 

“Ko~u!” Alex whined, his accent poking through again. “You're so mean.”

 

Hazel eyes rolled before settling again on the sandy-haired boy.

 

“All right, well, you can rant and rave about Grandma's awe-inspiring imagination tomorrow. I'm going to sleep. Don't argue with me!” she cut in quickly as Alex began to open his mouth. “And no, you cannot `just borrow' the book for the night, so don't ask.” Alex's mouth closed completely in a pout.

 

“You're no fun at all,” he grumbled light-heartedly, smirking ever so slightly as he slipped out of the room, casting a good-night wave at Corey.

 

With a sigh, the girl laid back against her pillow, still holding the volume and tracing fingertips over the faded gold lettering. Her father had treasured this book above all of his other possessions. Corey considered it a small miracle that it had been recovered and returned to her; it made it seem as if she could at least have a piece of her father and her grandparents with her.

 

It was sad, though, that a book was the only family she had anymore.

 

With that thought, Corey closed her eyes and let herself drift off to sleep, the book clutched firmly against her chest.

 

In the darkness of the room, a red light glimmered softly.

 

 

 

Corey opened her eyes to the gentle glow of day. Sitting up, she quickly realized that she was not in her room. She was seated in a field of grass more lush and rich than anything in the parks near her house. Ancient-style buildings loomed in the near distance. She was back in the dream world.

 

Rising to her bare feet, Corey decided she might as well wander around before she woke up. The walk to town went quickly. It was a bustling place full of open markets and bazaars, people selling and buying, coming and going. Everyone was dressed in traditional robes, from the simple to the elaborate. It was amazing to see, and Corey couldn't help the smile that touched to her lips.

 

The farther into the city she meandered, the more people stopped to stare. Corey couldn't blame them- she was only wearing a slip of a nightgown. Had any of this been real, there would have been no end to her embarrassment. She simply smiled when she noticed someone gawking, fighting the urge to giggle when one of her spectators jerked their heads away guiltily.

 

A long, low groan caught Corey's attention as it emanated from a narrow ally just ahead. Walking tentatively forward, she peeked around the edge of the building that made up one of the ally's walls. Someone- a young man by the look of him- was crumpled on the ground, doubled over even as he leaned against the building side. Corey approached the stranger, curious.

 

“Are you okay?” she asked the still-moaning man.

 

“Our friend is sick.” The reply came from behind Corey, making her jump a little from surprise. She whipped around to face the newcomer, also spotting four others crowding the entrance to the little side street. “But medicine is so expensive,” he continued. “Maybe you should give us your money so we can buy some.” A chorus of chuckles followed the statement, but promptly stopped when the group of thugs realized that the girl they were attempting to rob was laughing as well.

 

“How funny!” Corey exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I wonder what part of my subconscious you're supposed to be!”

 

The robbers all exchanged confused glances, seeming to simply not understand why this little girl wasn't terrified.

 

“Whatever,” said the one who had spoken earlier, dismissively. Corey identified this one as the leader of her imaginary band of thieves. “Just give us your money and I won't have to hurt that pretty face of yours.” He pulled an old, worn-looking knife from his sash, brandishing it threateningly.

 

Corey giggled again. “Do I look like I have any money, you meathead?” As if to accentuate her obvious point, she gestured her hands to her pajama-clad body.

 

The man with the knife seemed to be getting frustrated at this point.

 

“I could kill you!” he growled, desperation lacing his voice. Corey knew the sound - he didn't want to look bad in front of his gang. “Why aren't you afraid?!”

 

Corey shrugged.

 

“Because you're a figment of my imagination,” she explained plainly. “I have this dream all the time lately, though I usually wake up before I make it this far.”

 

“What the hell?” asked one of the thugs. “She's crazy,” muttered another. “We should just take her down and sell her off to a pleasure house.”

 

The leader seemed to be fighting internally with what his lackeys were saying and whatever it was he had in mind. “Do it,” he said at last.

 

Immediately, Corey felt a pair of arms grab her roughly from behind- she'd forgotten about the man on the ground who had lured her there in the first place.

 

`Well!' she thought. `This is what I get for sneaking extra cookies before bed. Midnight snack nightmares.' A frown crossed her features as she struggled against her dream-captor. Jeez! He was awfully strong. Corey had expected her own brain to take it easier on her. Oh well.

 

“Ow!” screamed the one who had been holding her, stumbling away from the girl as he shook his hand. “She bit me!” he cried incredulously, showing the red mark just below his thumb.

 

“You idiot,” the man with the knife growled. “Get her!” When a few moments passed and none of his other men rushed forward at his command, he turned and cast a confused look over his shoulder.

 

The other robbers were quite unconscious. Behind the knife-wielding mugger now stood a young man with flaming orange hair who was smiling widely.

 

“Hi,” the newcomer said amiably before throwing a punch that sent the assailant flying backward into the ally. Corey jumped to the side as her would-be attacker slid past. He wasn't getting up, and his only other friend had already hauled ass out of there. Corey figured it was safe now.

 

“Some people just never learn,” the orange-haired one said with a self-satisfied chuckle. Corey looked at him, quirking an eyebrow when she saw the man's elongated incisors. He seemed so strange- he was wearing more jewelry than she'd ever seen a boy wear, he had fangs, and surely that hair color couldn't be real. But then, she dyed her bangs, so she had no room to speak. Even so…

 

Realizing that she'd let her thoughts run away without her, Corey shook her head, smiling embarrassedly. “Thanks, I-“

 

The fanged stranger was staring at her with such intensity that it made Corey shiver right down to her core. Those yellow eyes bored into her straight through- it almost felt as if he were looking directly into her soul. It was the most unsettling feeling she'd ever had, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from his. As he drew closer, Corey's breath caught in her throat. Everything in her was screaming for her to turn, to run, to get back to the field she always started this dream on and wake up. But she was rooted to the spot.

 

He stopped a scant few inches away from the girl, his eyes burning with an unidentifiable something that actually made Corey blush. “…Miaka…?” the flame-haired stranger breathed, a hand slowly reaching out to the girl with the wide hazel eyes.

 

Suddenly, those eyes flinched shut, a scream ripping through the air as reality came crashing back. Pain unlike anything Corey had ever felt shot through her. Forcing her eyes open, she found the source of it: the old beat-up dagger she had been threatened with earlier had found its mark. The handle of the weapon protruded from her thigh, and blood poured like water from the wound.

 

The fanged man seemed to have come back to his senses as well, and Corey shuddered again. She had never seen such blind rage on a person's face.

 

She didn't understand what was happening. Surely a dream couldn't hurt this badly. But why was she still in the dream world? Hands upon her shoulders brought her focus back again. Her attacker was nowhere in sight, but the flame-haired man was kneeling over her. When had she slid to the ground? Corey screamed again when his hand gripped the knife and pulled it out.

 

“It hurts,” she murmured through the haze of pain and blood loss.

 

“I know,” the stranger answered softly, wrapping something around the wound. “Just hang in there, Miaka.”

 

It was getting hard to think. Corey's brain felt like pudding, but maybe that was good news. People always woke up right before they died in their dreams, right? In any case, it took her a few moments to register the man's words.

 

“But…” she started, her voice sounding thick. “Miaka was… my grandmother's name…”

 

Corey was just barely able to catch the bewildered expression on her rescuer's face before she was enveloped in warm crimson light.

 

 

 

“Kou! KOU!”

 

Hazel eyes wavered and then opened, the familiar sight of her own bedroom blurred strangely. Corey was vaguely aware of Alex sitting next to her, holding her hand so tightly that the appendage was growing numb- though that could have been the blood loss. The lacy material of her nightgown was stick and wet, making her feel colder than she already was.

 

“Should've… worn warmer pajamas tonight,” she managed with a grin. Why was he crying? Corey couldn't make sense of anything, least of all the strange people in uniforms that burst into her room just before everything went black.

 

 

 

 

 

*kaijuu: Japanese for `monster'

 

Author's Note: Well, here it is. My first attempt at literary fiction in three years. Fushigi Yuugi was the first anime series I ever saw, watching it on fansubs before it was produced in the US, and it has always had a special place in my heart, no matter how sappy or cheesy or overly melodramatic it is. That's just part of its charm, I suppose. This is my third re-write of the same story, and the first incarnation of it to ever be available for public viewing. I gladly accept constructive criticism if anyone has any to offer.

 

 

Oh yeah, and the disclaimer. I don't own Fushigi Yuugi. If I did, do you really think I'd be writing fanfics about it? Yuu Watase is an awesome artist. Check out her first manga, `Shishunki Miman Okotowari' if you ever have the chance.