Pet Shop Of Horrors Fan Fiction ❯ Man-Eater ❯ Man-Eater Pt 01 ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I don't own Pet Shop of Horrors and I make no money from this or any other fanfic I write.
Pairings: Leon+D
Category: Supernatural/Drama
Rating: R
Warning: Shonen Ai. Language. Violence
Title: Man-Eater
Status: In Progress
Notes: //Chris' thoughts//



PART ONE


Sighing heavily to himself, Master Dishi Sung set his calligraphy brush aside and critically examined the letter he had just written for errors. Thick, white hair flowed over his bent shoulders glimmering against the sky blue silk of his robes like fresh snow. Almond eyes squinted unconsciously as he held the paper closer to his face in order to make out the characters, for his eyes were not as strong as they had once been and his own foolish pride kept him from wearing his prescription eye glasses. As he read he muttered the words under his breath, hearing them in his head, their rhythm and flow. Their urgency. The letter would be read for what it was - a desperate plea for desperate times.

Satisfied, he gently folded the thick parchment and slipped it into an envelope. One gnarled hand reached for a solid lump of red wax, the other for an ornately decorated candelabra. With deliberate movements he fed the wax to the flame, and watched in mild wonder as the melted wax dribbled onto the paper like thick blood.

When he had melted enough wax to securely cover the creased folds of the paper, he set both the wax and candle carefully aside. His movements, though slow, were remarkably sure for a man his age. And even though his face, a maze of wrinkles and age spots, held evidence of great weariness, his black eyes sparkled with life and intelligence in the candles' dim glow.

Almost eighty-nine years ago he had been born into the world by flickering candlelight, the first born son of a rice farmer and a temple maiden. But the world was an ever changing place and eventually the new electric lights of Shanghai replaced the candles and kerosene lanterns of his country youth. But still, on sleepless nights such as this, when the troubles of the world weighted heavily upon his shoulders, he found comfort in the soft buttery light of long ago, a simpler time when his cares had been the same as every other man's.

Electric lights burned with an fierce intensity and reliability no flame could ever match, but there were still some things, some evils, that no amount of radiance could banish. They lurked in dark corners, sulking, waiting patiently Mankind's understanding to falter and grow dim.

Now was such a dim time. This modern world with its neon lights, passenger jets and Internet access had no understanding or patience for the secret histories his family had passed on so carefully for generations. Indeed, if this knowledge were to become known there would be many who would scoff and ridicule, denouncing his life's vigil as nothing more than old wives tales or foolish superstitions.

But there would also be those who would believe... and act.

With a trembling, arthritic hand Sung removed his signature ring from the middle finger of his left hand. For a moment he held it aloft and admired the play of light and shadow along its smooth band. A beautiful ring, ornately carved from purest silver it was the symbol of his esteemed position in a dying brotherhood. He then marked his seal upon the cooling wax with slow and deliberate care.

A deep sorrow clouded his black eyes. His was a burden of terrible knowledge shared by but a few and passed on from generation to generation, from father to son. But when his time on this earth was done, that knowledge would fall into oblivion for though his dearly departed wife had bore him three sons, none had grown to adulthood. There was no one left to walk in his footsteps. When he was gone, everything he knew of the approaching disaster would die with him.

'And that is why it is so desperately important that this letter safely reach its destination.' He thought as he slid the ring back onto its accustomed finger. 'Only he will be able to use this knowledge... and save this world from the hand of Evil.'

A knock was heard on his chamber door, and Sung glanced up at the clock, surprised that the hour was so late.

"Come in."

Sighing heavily, he placed the envelope on top of a medium-sized rosewood case before turning his attention to the youth who stood at attention near the door, a large suitcase at his feet.

"Come here, Jin Li." The old man commanded.

The youth approached, his feet making no sound against the wooden floor.

"Yes, Master Sung?"

Sung handed the case and letter to the young man, who accepted it gingerly as if it were a box of nitroglycerin. "You must take these with you to America, my dear pupil." He said quietly. "See that they reach their destination safely."

"But what about you, Master?" Jin Li asked, his black brows furrowing. "Your enemies grow stronger with each passing day."

The young man reached out and laid one hand beseechingly on his master's frail shoulder. He had been looking forward to going to America for many years, but he had always believed that he would make the journey with Master Sung. It just wouldn't be the same without the man who had taken him in off of the streets and raised him as his own. Now that the hour of his departure had arrived he couldn't bear to leave behind the one man who had been master, teacher, and father.

"It's no longer safe for you to stay here." Jin Li insisted quietly. "Come with me to America, Master. Please. I have money. If we are lucky, there will still be tickets available for the flight. Or if not, then we could catch the next one."

Sung smiled gently but shook his head at this suggestion. "Do not worry about me, Jin Li. I can take care of myself. Besides," he added with a self-depreciating chuckle, "I'm to old to travel around the world. My place is here."

He patted the younger man's arm reassuringly and offered another smile. To his surprise, Jin Li transfered the case to his left hand and wrapped his right arm around him in an rare and spontaneous show of affection. The old man's throat ached and his eyes misted as he found himself returning the embrace, unable to shake off the feeling that this would be the last time they would ever see each other.

When the two pulled apart, Sung cleared his throat and muttered gruffly, "You must leave now or you will miss your flight. Remember that yours is a most important mission, my son. If you fail, there will be no hope left for this world."

"Farewell." Jin Li whispered hoarsely, "I will never forget you... Father."

Sung sat at his desk long after Jin Li finally left for the airport calmly drinking herbal tea and smoking his pipe. Curling trails of smoke drifted lazily towards the ceiling. It had been many years since he had enjoyed this particular blend of tobacco and he savored it fully now. Smoking was one of his few vices and one that Jin Li highly disapproved of. So in respect of his young ward's desire for a smoke-free environment, Sung had agreed not to smoke when his pupil was present.

'But Jin Li's not here now,' Sung thought a little smugly, a cat-like smile playing over his lips. But then on the heels of that, 'And he most likely never will be again...'

A pang of loneliness pierced the old man's heart, killing the pleasure of one of his most cherished leisure activities. He set the pipe aside and silently watched th moonbeams slanting in from the window, his mood melancholy. The gentle splash of the fountain in his garden was carried on the wind that gently played through the bamboo wind chime that hung on the northern corner of the porch. Jin Li had given it to him as a present when he was seven years old. A faint smile tugged at Sung's lips as he recalled how proud the young boy had been when he had given it to him on the first day of the New Year so long ago.

The soft, shuffling sounds of footsteps followed by the crack of a breaking branch pulled Sung from his reverie. The moonlight disappeared abruptly as a shadowy figure materialized on his balcony, the large hulking form of a man. Dark eyes glittered as they found their prey and a malicious smile twisted the intruder's thin lips. A sound like sand being poured out of an hourglass accompanied by a long flash of blue-silver light along a deadly edge told Dishi Sung that this intruder was armed... and meant business. In the flickering light of the candle, he could just make out the tattooed seal on the upper bicep of the swordsman.

And in an instant he knew exactly what this creature had come for.

Sung rose to his feet, his old legs unsteady. His eyes flickered toward his walking stick, propped against his chair then skidded to the letter opener on his desk. Knowing that his legs couldn't carry him to safety, he reached for the only other weapon at his disposal. Faint beads of moisture dotted his wrinkled brow and slicked the palm holding the letter opener.

The intruder slid like black water across the floor, making no noise whatsoever as he crossed the room. Sung held his ground, the letter opener held out before him. Suddenly, the sword flicked through the air and pain flamed through the old man's arm as the flesh was ripped open. Sung grunted in pain and his makeshift weapon clattered to the ground.

"Where are the sacred blade and ring?" The stranger demanded, his voice low and hissing.

"You're too late," Sung rasped, cradling his bleeding arm to his chest. "I have sent them far from here where you and your cult will never find them."

"Tell me where they are."

"Never!"

"Is that so?" Sneered the intruder. "Well, I guess we'll just have to do this the hard way."

The black-clad man slashed the sword through the air and Sung staggered back, his eyes huge, his mouth gaping. Blood spurted up from a nasty gash in his chest and he found himself falling back into his chair as his assassin stood over him, a terrible smile playing over is lips.

"Don't worry, old man, it wasn't a mortal blow." The stranger said as he knelt down in front of Sung. He laid his bloodied sword on top of the desk, and turned to stare into the old man's eyes. "Now, you are going to tell me everything I want to know. Starting with the whereabouts of the sacred blade and ring."

"N-no.."

The man clucked his tongue in mock-disapproval. "See, now you're just being stubborn. Not that I expected anything less from one of the last remaining Guardians." He chuckled low in his throat and it was full of anticipation. "You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. That's not necessary. I'll just take what I want from your mind."

Incredibly long fingers clutched a strange medallion that hung around the stranger's neck and Sung's eyes flew open in horror as he recognized it for what it was, the channeling amulet of one of the most powerful demons to ever step forth from the gates of Hell. Desperately, he struggled to rise, but his body refused to obey.

The man began to chant, an ancient tongue that no man had heard for over one thousand years. The amulet seemed to burst into flame in his hand, and yet the man's flesh was not harmed in any way. His words rose in pitch and volume until the reverberated through Sung's head, and when his assailant reached out with his free hand he shrank back against his seat, frantically squirming but to no avail. Their flesh touched and he screamed as blinding pain surged through his mind.

The assassin bared his teeth in a fierce smile of triumph as he absorbed the information he extracted from the old man's screaming mind. "Clever," he hissed, "so very clever of you, old man. Sending the sacred items to the West. But it won't do you any good. We have many loyal followers in California. It will be only a matter of time before they find them."

Abruptly, he released his hold on the old man. He stepped away as Sung struggled to pull himself to his feet. But the mind drain coupled with the blood loss proved too much for him and he collapsed to the ground in a boneless pile, his body shuddering in pain.

Jet black eyes glared up at his assailant as Sung announced defiantly, "He will stop your evil plans."

The intruder looked down upon the fallen man, an evil smirk dancing on his lips. "He is certainly welcomed to try. I love a good challenge as much as the next man. But what makes you so certain that he will aid your cause? If I remember my history correctly, old man, it was your ancestors who slaughtered his people all those years ago."

Sung coughed violently as the blood welling up from his lungs clogged his breathing passages. It was true that his family had betrayed the very ones they had once fought besides. But in this, the Earth's most desperate hour, surely their two races could put aside their differences to protect the world from its most deadly threat...

"The Kami will stop you..." Sung gasped feebly. "and we will defeat your master as we did in those ancient days gone by. History will repeat itself..."

The stranger's face darkened upon hearing the old man's words. Black eyes narrowed and his grip around the hilt of his sword tightened until his knuckles were white moons. He plunged his blade into the old man's chest and took great pleasure in his gasping cry of pain. As the old Master's eyes clouded over in death, he spat upon his corpse with contempt.

"History is about to change, old fool," He snarled, 'but this time the Kami will dies and my Master who is reborn."


TO BE CONTINUED...