Disclaimer: Er, I suppose this should be a "claimer", not a "disclaimer", because I own it all. Muahaha. All these characters are mine; the plotline is mine; the weird mythology is mine, but influenced by Indian mythology (that's Indian as in from India, not Native American Indian. Just to clear up any possible confusion.) I'll only let you use them if you ask nicely.

*.~A Note About the Mythology~.*

Like I said above, some of the characters and ideas are very, very loosely based on Indian mythology. To clarify that last statement, Hikari is oh-so-slightly based on Vishnu (the Creator) and Kaimei is oh-so-slightly based on Shiva (the Destroyer). I was also influenced by the idea of Avatars, where Vishnu would take human form (Krishna, Rama, etc). Other than that there is really no other connection, except for the whole Brahman principle. And the demi-caste system of New New Delhi. Heh, another thing -- I know absolutely nothing about Persian or Zoroastrian mythology, except that they thought fire was sacred. This *is* an alternate reality, and there are probably tons of strange little sects out there anyway. Thus, Darius' religion is completely fictional.

*.~A Note About the Names~.*

I chose all the names very carefully. "Hikari", of course, means "light" in Japanese, and "Kaimei" means "darkness". "Noor" and "Tarik" are the same in Farsi (Persian), respectively. "Mujaki" means "innocent", "Hibashira" means "column of fire"; "Tsuuriki" means "mysterious". "Setareh", Darius' last name, means "star" in Farsi; "Mahadhya", the last name of the guest-family Mujaki stays with, means "rich" in Sanskrit. All the others, except for "Alaja" (little bird) and "Patni" (lady), I made up.

And now, to the story -- but before I start, let me add one last thing:

There is no such thing as coincidence.

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Within the Mists of Time lived The Two.

They were both Light and Shadow, Creator and Destroyer, Innocence and Mystery.

Their world had no sense of Time, Place, nor Beings other than Themselves.

All They had were Each Other.

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by Akira Ichijouji

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PHASE I: HIBASHIRA MUJAKI

Hibashira Mujaki had always been a cheerful boy. His pure white hair was cropped short, brushing his rounded chin, and was often braided to suit his fancy. He had intelligent, light, light grey eyes that glinted silver and always seemed to stare straight through one's soul. His face was heart shaped and lovely, skin nearly as pale as his hair. He had an enigmatic smile.

At the age of seventeen Mujaki had grown lithe and graceful, with slender limbs and long, tender fingers that could just as easily cajole music out of a flute as soothe a cat to sleep. Although he was always friendly, always smiling, he never seemed to have many friends. His smile seemed forever distant, forever unwilling for another to peer past the depths of his eyes. He seemed to have some deep need to be solely in his own company, and always spent his afternoons, nights, weekends, and holidays alone.

Even as a child Mujaki never needed to have toys, to have diversions. He could sit by himself in a corner and dream life away, thinking and fantasizing of something intrinsic yet far out of reach. It was times like this that his mother tended to worry.

Hibashira Saira was a sweet woman in and of herself, with almost the same enigmatic aura her son possessed. She was fair-skinned and graceful, with waist-length raven hair, which she usually kept in a tight bun. Like Mujaki, she tended to shy away from social contacts, going to work every day, earning her pay, and never quite getting to know her co-workers or the other mothers of children in her son's class at school. She was always afraid of too many questions -- too many questions she couldn't answer, such as why she was unmarried and generally rejected the company of men, or why her son looked absolutely nothing like her. Saira and Mujaki could spend hours in each others' company, never saying a word. Although this had become a normal occurrence in the house, it always sent chills up her spine to see Mujaki so inclined, eyes fixed on one spot on the wall, empty, his spirit somewhere else, with someone else.

Mujaki's innate anti-socialistic nature was the reason he chose to study abroad. Because he had no friends in his home city of Neo Kyoto, there was no one he might miss except for his mother, but they had an understanding. She understood that she had borne him for a reason. He understood that she wouldn't miss him enough for it to hamper her everyday life. With this in mind, Mujaki sat in the sonic-train, suitcases carefully packed away in the baggage module, eyes fixed on the transitory figure of his mother outside the window.

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Mujaki fiddled with the hem on his lavender overshirt, staring out the window at Saira's lonely figure. He rested his forehead against the glass, pressing one hand next to it. His silvery-grey eyes were mournful as he regarded her for...suddenly the realization hit him that this would indeed be the last time he would see her. She seemed to sense this too, for she looked a bit forlorn standing on the high-rise platform, hair and skirt billowing in the winds. She had her hands clasped in front of her, holding her well-used handbag against her legs. Although she was young -- almost too young to have a nearly-grown son -- she had worry-lines feathering out from her large, tired, chocolate eyes. They had made a pair, the two of them, mother and son.

The white-haired boy felt an overwhelming sadness fill his eyes as the sonic-train pulled away from the platform, leaving all he knew behind it. He waited until he could no longer see his mother's form any longer, and collapsed back into the red leather seat. He spread his long legs half underneath the seat in front of him, uncharacteristically clumsily flopped his arms over the armrests, and stared fixedly at a spot on the overhead compartment. Soon, the voice of the pilot came over the loudspeaker, telling the passengers how they had just broke the sound barrier and would reach their destination in less than an hour. Thanks to sound-proof compartments, no one heard the thunder-like crash associated with such vehicles as it reached its top speed.

Mujaki wouldn't have heard it anyway.

The silver-eyed boy felt the familiar euphoria take control of his mind once again as images flashed across his vision. Although his eyes were wide open, he saw Nothing. Nothing, but Something. Black eyes. Black eyes looking into his, filling him, completing him. He sighed, comforted, as he felt velvety darkness embrace him for the thousandth time.

He was so wrapped up in his vision he didn't even notice the stewardess come around with refreshments, and barely comprehended that his ride was over until the sonic-train was nearly empty of passengers. He rose to his feet with a sigh, stretching his stiff muscles, blinking at the light that suddenly resolved itself in his sight. Mujaki slung his carry-on backpack over one shoulder, stuffing his hands in his pockets and exiting the vehicle. As he stepped onto the platform, he viewed his future -- in the form of his guest family -- standing on the sidewalk holding a sign that said "Mujaki" written in the New Roman alphabet. Hesitating slightly, he went to them.

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END PHASE I

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