3. Kouko Kouryuu

            Sunlight streamed through an open window, a golden river illuminating a mountain of blankets.  Slowly the lump beneath the covers shifted with a sleepy moan, yanking coverlets over violet eyes exposed to the brightness.

            “Hidoi sunlight…” Kumi grumbled, cocooned in her bedsheets.

            Her bed shook with the addition of some new weight, and the scent of fried chicken filled the air. “What in the world…?” She flung the covers off and sat up, violet gaze meeting the slitted green eyes of a huge, muscular tomcat whose white teeth gripped a leg of fried chicken, back arched and marmalade fur puffed out.

            Kumi blinked, surprised and confused for several moments, and then she erupted into indignation. “Hey!  That’s my lunch!”

            The big cat hissed as she dived at him and jumped out of the way at the last moment.  She fell face-flat on the bed and yelped in pain as claws raked her back, the tomcat landing on her and then escaping through the window.  He sat on the narrow sill for a single moment, meeting her furious gaze almost smugly before leaping to the ground and sauntering away.

            The elf ran to the window, shaking a slim fist at the cocky feline. “Bakayaro!” she yelled at him. “Get back here!  That’s my food!”  She glared as he slipped around the corner, tail curled into a self-satisfied question mark.  She whirled away from the window, fuming.

            Kumi paused as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, grimacing at the sight.  Her long silken nightgown was rumpled, her silver-blonde hair in disarray.    Her phoenix necklace gleamed softly against the pale blue pajamas.  Dangerous, perhaps, to sleep with a necklace on- but more dangerous still to have her adoptive family discover what she truly was.

            Her gaze flicked from the mirror to the messy bed, the only disorder in the immaculate room.  Shinwa Shiranai rested in the covers where she’d fallen asleep reading it.  Memory struck her without warning, that of a shimmering golden eagle, a phoenix, the Phoenix…

            “Spirits!” she exclaimed. “The Prophecies!  I’ve got to find the Kouko Kouryuu!”

            Downtown Shukumei was a bees’ hive of activity.  Cars lined up in a crowded mess, filling the air with the buzz of electricity and the blare of angry horns.  People rushed along the sidewalk, a veritable horde of diversity and humanity.  Kumi grimaced at the barrage of scent and sound, twice as intrusive to her keen elven senses as to a human’s.  She walked slowly through the crowd, violet eyes searching everyone she passed with a disturbing intensity.  How was she supposed to find the Guardian in this mess?

“Kouryuu, washed by phoenix tears,

White crest of wave, to the sennyu adhere.

I name you guardian, so always stay near

To she who has found you and now brought you here.”

            Kumi murmured the second verse of the Prophecy of the Kouko beneath her breath, growing more and more frustrated as she puzzled over it. “I already know what the first line means… Kouryuu means Dragon.  Washed by phoenix tears refers to the Kouryuu’s element, water.  But white crest of wave?  What does that have to do with anything?” Still muttering irritably and drawing not a few odd stares from those close enough to hear her talking to herself, she stepped off the curb and into the street, intending to walk across.

            A throaty roar assaulted her ears, that of a motorcycle at full throttle.  Kumi yelped in startled surprise as a blur of night-dark steel flashed by close to a foot in front of her.  She was left choking in the fumes, glaring malevolently after the disappearing cyclist.  Too angry to speak, she lashed out with a psychic stream of angry words. *Baka!  I had the right of way!  You almost killed me, you hidoi HUMAN!*

            She had the satisfaction of seeing one leather-gloved hand reach up in confusion to the side of the dark helmet, and then go back down quickly as he approached a turn. “Humans,” the elf muttered in complete and utter disgust.  Her indignation satisfied, she shifted her white leather shoulderbag to a more comfortable position and continued her interrupted journey across the crowded street.

* * *

            The sun was passing its zenith when Kumi at last sat down for lunch, footsore and weary.  The blue and white umbrella above her round table was a welcome relief from the relentless heat of the sun, and a cool breeze overcame the slight humidity of the air to make things almost comfortable.

            “May I help you?”

            The elf looked up from her menu at the waiter’s voice.  He was a bland-faced man, easy to forget about, nothing out of the ordinary to distinguish him.  Mouse-brown hair, mud-brown eyes, the restaurant’s blue and white uniform proclaiming his name, last name first: Kane Saburo.  Kane, putting together; Saburo, third son.  The meanings of the fairly common names flitted through Kumi’s head automatically.  Name meanings were a hobby of hers, yet another piece of useless knowledge she had wasted time gathering.

            Saburo tapped his toe on the tiled floor, growing impatient. “Are you ready to order yet?”

            “Hai,” the elf affirmed, returning to her menu. “A glass of lemonade to drink, and then just a large caeser salad with extra cheese for the meal.  Large, kudasai,” she added politely, the please tacked on almost as an afterthought.  Funny, she usually was more polite.  It was as if some sort of subtle magic surrounded the waiter, making him fade out of peoples’ minds…

            Magic?  Violet eyes snapped from the menu to the man writing down her order.  She scrutinized him carefully, taking note of what she had overlooked before.  He was thin, seemingly overly so, and taller than most men.  Although she hadn’t noticed it at first, he wore a silver ring shaped as an Oriental water dragon, curled about one long, slender finger.  It pulsed with Spirit magic to her trained sight.

            “I’m reading an interesting book,” Kumi said suddenly, eliciting a startled glance from the waiter, who had begun to turn towards the indoor kitchens. “It’s called Shinwa Shiranai.  Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

            Saburo was wary and uncertain as he spoke, the caution clear in his face and tone. “Perhaps.  What of it?”

            “Oh, I don’t know,” she said casually, eyes fixed on the waiter’s finely boned face for a reaction. “It’s just that the ring you’re wearing looks very much like the illustration of the dragon-god Ryu in the book.”

            He glanced at her necklace and there was a subtle change in his eyes, that of a brief shift from mud-brown to slit-pupiled amber.  Kumi felt the tingle of magic in the air as a faint twitch on the edge of her mind. *You agree with the Kouko?* he asked silently. *That the ancient races should be returned?*

            The elf almost laughed aloud at the question, thinking of just how strongly she was connected with Kou, and wondering briefly how this other elf would react if he knew. “Perhaps.  And what of it?” she asked aloud, echoing his earlier words perfectly. *A nice change to meet another elf in Shukumei.  There aren’t a lot of us,* she added silently, regretful. *The place reeks of human.*

            *By ‘us’ you mean elves,* Saburo replied, his mind-voice edged with a touch of ice. *Yet I do not count you as truly elven.  Not if you follow Kou.*

            She was a bit taken aback at his vehemence. *You believe it’s more than a legend?*

            “You don’t?” The elven waiter shook his head, and she didn’t need to use Spirit to sense his enmity. *Best to remain hidden than to have to run all our lives from the humans.  We went under illusion for a reason.* He turned away with this last silent statement, tucking his notepad into a large pocket. “Your order will be ready in ten minutes.”

            Kumi watched as Saburo walked quickly to the kitchens, disturbed by what she had learned.  She had thought that most elves were as she had been before meeting Kou: reading the old legends but not truly believing that they were anything more than legend.  She certainly hadn’t expected to receive the same disdain and dislike from another elf that she exhibited towards humans.

            Shivering despite the summer heat, she lifted her white shoulderbag onto the blue-tinted glass of the tabletop, sliding out a notebook and her copy of Shinwa Shiranai.  With a sigh, she turned her thoughts to the puzzle of the Kouko Kouryuu, flipping the richly decorated pages of the thick volume until she reached an illustration of a blue-black dragon, serpentine in body but with four stumpy legs protruding beneath flowing ocean-blue fins.  Two long sensory whiskers, much like those of a catfish, began in the front of the wedge-shaped snout and swept back and out.  White fangs, two close-set rows on lower and upper jaws, gleamed within the water dragon’s scaly mouth.  A storm raged about him, seeming to threaten the reader with its dark intensity.

            The facing page listed a lengthy, matter-of-fact explanation of dragons, the traits typical to the species, their use of water magic, etcetera, etcetera.  “You’d think the elven recorders could write this without being so dry,” Kumi muttered resentfully, but bent her head over her notebook to work.  Soon the pen was moving steadily across the page as she wrote the main points of the page in precise, tiny handwriting.

            Angry voices broke her concentration, and she glared irritably at the next table.  Two customers were standing, their chairs pushed back carelessly, their faces twisted in anger.  One was a brawny black man in black biker leather and chains, glaring at the eighteen-year-old across the table.  The younger man’s black-gloved fists were clenched at his sides, the right one creeping dangerously close to an L-shaped bulge in the pocket of his heavy black biking jacket.  Sea-green eyes returned the black man’s glare from beneath a shock of navy-blue bangs.

            Kumi stared hard at the younger man, trying to figure out where she’d seen him before.  She couldn’t quite make out what the two were saying, but they were gesturing eloquently as they argued.  The black man’s hand swept across the table, and the elf’s gaze followed the movement involuntarily to a black helmet.

            She knew that helmet!

            Indignant memory of a rude motorcyclist was pushed aside as the older man’s fist connected with the younger one’s face.  He’d backpedaled with the blow to lessen its effect, but the black man was an experienced fighter.  His other fist came up into the blue-haired teen’s gut before he’d had time to react, sending him crashing into Kumi’s table, shattering the glass tabletop and toppling the elf’s chair.

            She leapt up immediately, furious. “Can’t you fight somewhere else?” she shouted. “Spirits!  I swear, you…” The tirade died in her throat as her violet gaze fell on the gleam of dark metal in the younger man’s hand.  Both combatants ignored her, expressions grim as they glared at each other.  Typical human males, she thought, forcing her stunned mind to think, trying not to look at what the teenager held.

            “Ya wouldn’t use that here,” the black man said, dark eyes narrowing. “Ya wouldn’t use it on anythin’ but beer cans an’ trees.”

            Still sprawled amidst glass shards and the ruins of the table, the younger biker grinned ferally up at the bigger man.  The handgun never wavered in his black-gloved hands. “Care to stake your life on it, Michio?”

            The black man snarled wordlessly, lifting one angry fist to point at the teenager. “Ya can’t run forever,” he spat. “You’ll have to pay up someday!” With those last cryptic words, he spun on a booted heel and stalked away.

            The navy-haired teenager grimaced, returning his handgun to his jacket pocket as he clicked on the safety. “We’ll see about that,” he muttered, too low for human ears but perfectly clear to elven ones.

            A shout erupted from the kitchens, and Kumi turned to see her elven waiter.  Saburo looked positively livid as he stood in the doorway with a precariously balanced tray on one slender hand, his mud-brown eyes snapping with the true amber beneath the illusion, pupils narrowed to vertical slits.  Kumi’s skin crawled with the nearby working of Spirit, and then she acted without thinking.  She lashed out with Spirit, tossing up a hastily built wall in front of the other elf.  His mind crashed against the invisible barrier that shattered the blow meant for the teenager’s mind.

            *What sort of fool are you?* she hissed.

            *One who wishes a vandalizer punished!* Saburo withdrew his magic angrily. *Too late now; you’ve let him escape.*

            Kumi turned to see the motorcyclist disappearing over the wall. “Hey, get back here!” she yelled after him, dropping her Spirit shields and running to the rail. “That was my table you broke!” He ignored her angered shout, limping as quickly as he could to his sleek black machine.

            *If you hadn’t blocked me, he’d be unconscious by now and on his way to court,* Saburo snarled mentally.

            *Thought that elves who sympathized with Ryu preferred not to use magic around humans,* she sent back.

            *He would have thought the impact with the table was what knocked him out,* the waiter said calmly, walking up to the rail. *Humans will believe anything, as long as it’s within their ideas of possible.*

            *Huh.* Violet eyes flicked sideways at the shattered table. “I don’t suppose I can have my salad now?” she asked aloud, making her way to the glass and metal ruin and bending to retrieve her book and notes.

            Saburo glanced back at the kitchens, where several other staff members were venturing outside. “Certainly,” he replied, heading with unruffled elven grace to another table.

            Tucking her notepad into her shoulder bag, Kumi followed the other elf to the table, angular eyes narrowed slightly.  Ryuko sympathizers who used magic on humans… would wonders never cease?

* * *

            The city streets were wreathed in shadow by the time Kumi began her hike homeward.  She was footsore, tired, discouraged, and had never been more frustrated in her life.  Her intricately designed sandals dug into her skin, providing little support for her weary feet.  The shoulder bag’s slight weight dug into her shoulder no matter how she positioned it or which shoulder she put it on, knotting the muscles and making her even more tense than she already was due to frustration and exhaustion. “No sign of the Kouko Kouryuu,” she muttered, shifting her white leather bag to her other shoulder yet again. “No idea where to even start.  Wasted a perfectly good day…”

            The elf glared up at the darkening sky, remembering her encounter with Kou the day before and wondering how the phoenix had convinced her to accept this role. *How am I supposed to gather the Kouko if I can’t even find one dragon!?* she sent, a telepathic shout echoing into the emptiness above.

            The phoenix’s words from the previous day echoed in her mind, etching visions of the universe anew before her eyes. You will know the Kouko Guardian, the Kouko Kouryuu, in your very Spirit.

            “I hate riddles,” Kumi grumbled, kicking a loose rock across the sidewalk. “Dragons, prophecies, phoenixi… None of it makes any… oof!” Her muttered complaints were cut off as someone jolted into her on passing. “Spirits!” The mild curse burst from her tongue with the force of something far worse, and the single word triggered a realization in her mind. “I’ll know the Kouryuu in my spirit… in Spirit!  Baka!” Violet eyes flashed to the person who’d bumped into her, and she pitched her voice to carry to his ears. “Hey, you!”

            Recognition coursed through her like an electric shock as she saw the sharply defined face, the startlingly green eyes behind long navy-blue bangs.  It was the motorcyclist who had crashed into her table that afternoon.  Kumi called up Spirit while she still had eye contact, taking a sharp look through the sea-green windows to the soul… and seeing nothing but an oriental water dragon swimming ceaselessly through a rising ocean storm.  She couldn’t see his thoughts, couldn’t see his emotions- only a blue-black-green dragon.

            But how…?

            “That bad, huh?” He smirked as she refocused on his face, mentally jerking away from the image that dominated his Spirit.  For the first time, she noticed the growing bruise on his left cheek, just beginning to gain color.

            “You’re the jerk from earlier today!” she exclaimed to cover her confusion.

            His eyes widened, startled. “What?  Isn’t that kind of harsh?”

            “You nearly killed me when you rode past on your motorcycle!” Kumi accused, stepping towards him.  He took a step backwards, beginning to look trapped. “And you ruined my lunch when you crashed into my table!”

            “Whoa, just a minute now, I…” He raised his hands defensively, backed up against the wall of a nearby diner.

            “And what’s worse, I think you’re the Kouko Kouryuu!” This last was almost a wail of frustrated despair.

            Panic gave way to confusion in his expression, and his hands fell to his sides as he stared at her oddly. “Isn’t Koko a gorilla or something?”

            Kumi crossed her arms, glaring at the blue-haired man as if her revelation were all his fault. “Not a gorilla, baka!  The Kouko Kouryuu!  Kouko means ‘Children of the Phoenix.’  Kouryuu is ‘dragon.’ I think what Kou meant when she told me I’d know the Kouryuu in my spirit was that I could find him by using Spirit magic… and since all I can see in you is a water dragon, I think you’re the Kouryuu.”

            The motorcyclist stared at her, incredulous, and then leaned forward slightly. “You’ve escaped from the loony bin, haven’t you?”

            Now it was the elf’s turn to gape. “Escaped from the… No!  I’m perfectly sane!”

            He nodded slowly, watching her violet-eyed glare with wary green eyes. “Well, if you’re not from the asylum, then… Aha!  I know!  This is one of those candid camera things, isn’t it?” He darted to the door of the diner and stared up at the green canopy leaning out from it, and then rushed to the curb, staring out over the street, one hand shading his eyes from the setting sun as he searched the opposite side of the road. “Where’s the camera?  Am I on TV?  Where is it?”

            Kumi gawked at the biker in near-disbelief as he looked eagerly for the nonexistent camera. “I don’t believe this…” she muttered as he darted across the street and back again, exploring every inch of the area.  One hand lashed out, graceful fingers curled into a fist that slammed down on the navy-blue head.

            “Ow…” The elf groaned as pain gripped her hand, the impact turning it red. “Spirits, that hurt!” The Kouryuu was still scurrying about, not even fazed by the blow.  Kumi stared, shocked. “I’ve never met anyone so thick-headed!”

            “Where’s the camera?  I’ve never been on TV before!  This is great!”

            Her already stretched temper snapped. *There isn’t a camera!  Stand still and listen to me, baka!*

            The mental voice halted the biker mid-stride, one foot in the air, mouth agape. “That voice… in my head… that was you?  But how… it’s not… I… you… that…”

            *Shut up.*

            The Kouryuu’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click of teeth coming sharply together.

            “Now,” Kumi said, gathering her shattered dignity up from the sidewalk and repositioning her bag on her shoulder, “this’ll take a while to explain.  It’s probably best that we sit down and talk.  Personally, I’m hungry.  Have you eaten dinner yet?”

            He shook his head, gathering what few wits he possessed. “I’m broke.”

            “I’ll pay, then.” She turned towards the diner and opened the door slowly. “Come on.”

            “Food!” He shouted the word gleefully and charged past her, racing into the building and immediately taking a seat. “I’ll have this and that and – oh, that looks good – and maybe some of this…”

            *BAKA!*

* * *

            Kumi felt sick.

            Food was flying through the air, crumbs splattering the tabletop, soup slopping over to stain the once-clean surface.  The Kouryuu was an eating machine.  He gulped down the meal as if it were his last, forgetting all table manners he may have known and drawing not a few stares from other customers.  It wasn’t as if he were starving.  He was far from thin, made of up of mostly well-fed muscle, although very little fat.  He only acted as if he hadn’t eaten in a month.

            “Y’goim t’eethat?”

            The elf blinked as the biker pointed at her bowl of virtually untouched soup. “Excuse me?”

            He swallowed and then pointed with his chin at her meal. “You goin’ to eat that?”

            “Er, no, I think I’ve lost my appetite.” She pushed the soup in his direction. “Go ahead.”

            He needed no further invitation, diving into the soup immediately.  He’d lost his spoon long ago in the rush to get the food off the plate and into his bottomless pit of a stomach, but spoons were a mere inconvenience for the Kouryuu.  He lifted the bowl and poured its contents down his throat.  Then he began retrieving the crumbs scattered across the table.

            Kumi blinked rapidly, scarcely believing her eyes.  In a minute’s time, the entire table was spotless. “I take it you’re finished?”

            “Ah…” He leaned back in the booth, folding both hands on his stomach and propping his heavy-booted feet on the table. “Yeah, I’m finished.  Thanks for the meal…” He trailed off as if waiting for something.

            The elf realized he wanted her name. “Oh, I’m Taji Kumi,” she introduced herself, last name first. “And you are…?”

            “Yamagawa Roka,” he said in the same manner. “Blackbelt, biker, and expert in all things that fire bullets.” He grinned slowly, bringing his hands up behind his head in a self-assured pose.

            “And the center of the universe as well, I presume,” Kumi murmured. “If you’d like my… titles, I’m a Spiritmage, elf, and the Kouko Sennyu.”

            “Really?  An elf?” Roka laughed at the idea. “You mean like those midgets that help out ol’ St. Nick?  Ho ho ho!”

            She gritted her teeth in irritation, violet eyes snapping fire. “Those are brownies,” she grated. “I am an elf.” She projected an image of herself without the illusion that made her seem human into his mind.

            “Whoa, an alien!” He rapped the side of his head with one fist as if that would jar the image loose. “Mind getting that thing outta my head?”

            *I am NOT a thing!* she shouted mentally. *I am an ELF, you stupid DRAGON!*

            “And again with the voices!” the Kouryuu complained.  Then he paused. “What’s that about a dragon?”

            Kumi let out a long-suffering sigh and pulled out her copy of Shinwa Shiranai.  She flipped quickly to the page on dragons, marked by a lavender ribbon. “Before humans ever discovered how to work metal, there were the five ancient races,” she explained. “There were the elves- that’s my race.  We are the master mages, using our native element of Spirit as well as some nonelemental magics.  The centaurs, half-horse and half-human, wise stargazers and deadly warriors.  The unicorns, peaceful and shy seers.  The gryphons, loyal and brave, half-eagle and half-lion.  And the dragons.”

            She tapped an illustration with three dragons depicted on it.  One long finger touched the first, a bat-winged creature with powerful clawed hindquarters and spindly forearms.  Its brilliant sky-shaded scales and thick russet fur covered a wedge-shaped head, long serpentine neck, and a sleek body. “There were three different breeds of dragons then.  This is an air dragon, most common in Europe and northern Asia.  They’re extinct now, too proud to hide, too proud to retreat.  All killed by human knights seeking glory.” She shook her head and moved to the next dragon, a huge reptilian beast with gray, green, black, and brown scales, eyes half-lidded, forked tongue testing the air. “Land dragons were sluggish, lazy, destined for extinction.  But they were fierce when roused.  They depended on the sun for energy, and lived mostly in South America and Africa.  Like the air dragons, they were viewed by humans as rites of passage.  They didn’t reproduce quickly enough to preserve the species and they gradually died out.”

            The final dragon was blue-black in color, sea-green eyes staring out from the page, a long sinuous form with strong fins along its armor-scaled sides and a powerful tail-fin tipping the end of the serpentine body.  The head was the tapered one of a predator, fangs gleaming dangerously.  Sensory whiskers curled back from its snout.  One of four clawed, short legs raked the air defiantly. “Only the water dragons survived.”

            Kumi turned the page to a larger version of the water dragon, similar to the blue-black one she’d seen in Roka’s Spirit. “The water dragons were proud, fierce, unpredictable, temperamental, arrogant.  Their magical element was water, but they preferred physical fighting to magic.  They valued size and fighting ability over almost anything else.  The only reason they weren’t hunted to extinction by the humans was because humans hadn’t yet mastered the waves…”

            “Whoa, hold on a minute!” Roka exclaimed. “You say these overgrown legged snakes aren’t extinct?  They’re still around?  But wouldn’t someone have found ‘em by now?”

            “I wouldn’t insult dragons if I were you,” the elf said dryly, “since you’re insulting yourself in the process.” Ignoring his incredulous stare, she continued to explain about the ancient races. “As I mentioned before, the humans had become… arrogant.  They were short-lived compared to the ancients, but they multiplied like mice.  Any other being is fortunate to birth two children in a decade, if two in their entire life.  Humans can have a child a year.” She grimaced as if the very mention of humans left a bad taste in her mouth. “They multiplied and expanded and took over the land.  The centaurs fought when their wide plains were stolen from them, but the humans outnumbered them.  The gryphons fought as the forests were felled, but they could only dodge so many arrows.  The unicorns were enslaved or slaughtered or went into hiding, as it is against their nature to fight at all.  The dragons fought, but the humans had technology- nets, harpoons, and later guns… Technology.  A weapon they preferred over their element of fire.  A weapon that would be the ruin of the ancient races.”

            “What about the elves?” Roka wanted to know, caught up in the age-old tale despite himself.

            “The elves were wise enough to retreat,” Kumi replied. “They hid themselves with illusion magic that concealed the elven features and stayed apart from the trials of the world.  It was the High Spiritmage Kei who would at last intervene, gathering to her a mage from each of the six races-“

            “Wait!  Six races?” the Kouryuu interrupted. “I thought there were only five!”

            “Five ancient races, yes,” the elf affirmed with thinning patience, “but six races in all.  Or did you forget the humans?” Without waiting for a reply, she continued speaking. “There was a Lightmage and a Shadowmage from the unicorns; a Landmage from the centaurs; a Watermage from the dragons; an Airmage from the gryphons; and a Firemage from the humans.  They combined their magic into a single, massive spell that completely drained them of energy, leaving them without magic forevermore.  It spread across the world, over the entire globe, and as it went it transformed all the ancient races… into humans.  All save the elves, who remained under their illusion spells.  It was the elves that destroyed all record of the ancient races, and the elves who gradually helped humanity to forget.  Now we elves are watchers, guardians of the past, keeping all knowledge of the truth from the world.”

            Roka stretched as she fell silent, his green eyes growing thoughtful as he gazed at the ceiling. “So what you’re saying is that I’m a dragon stuck in a human’s body?” At the elf’s silent nod, he asked, “Can dragons use guns?”

            Kumi stared at him, incredulous. “I suppose,” she said finally. “If they got some made that they could get their claws around.  But they’d have to get some that would shoot underwater… And why would a dragon need guns?  They’ve got fangs and claws and strength, not to mention a very powerful magical element.” She shook her head, amused. “But perhaps your human body has contaminated you with a reliance upon technology.  At any rate, that has nothing to do with tis.”

            She turned to the next page, one hand sweeping down the verses written there. “At the moment the last ancient was changed to human form, a Shadowmage prophesied their return…”

“The day the Phoenix descends from the sky,

The moment the Dragon ascends from the sea,

An era is born from dragon’s roar and phoenix’s cry:

An era of legend, of myth, of magery.

Children of the Phoenix, unveil your kin.

Possessors of the elements, reveal the legends within.

One from each race, ancient and new:

Sennyu, ‘tis yours to lead the way through.

Children of the Dragon, conceal your kin.

Possessors of the elements, hide the legends within.

One from each race, ancient and new:

Sennyu, ‘tis yours to block the way through.

Will this new age be death or new life?

Two paths mirror each other, and fate shall not choose.

Ryuko and Kouko, twins torn by strife:

Which one is death, and which one is life?”

            The elf waited for Roka to digest the puzzling verses before continuing. “The Kouko are the Children of the Phoenix, one of each race that will try to return the ancients to their original forms.  The Ryuko are the Children of the Dragon, sworn to keep things the way they are: the ancients sealed away forever, with only the elves to remember.  If the Ryuko succeed, that is what will happen.”

            The biker leaned back in his seat, watching her intently, all trace of his earlier frivolity gone. “What’s this got t’do with me, then?”

            Kumi let out a long breath. “Yesterday, the Phoenix Kou kame to me and told me that I’m the Kouko Sennyu, the Kouko Gatherer, destined to gather the Kouko together.  I believe that you are the Kouko Kouryuu, the Kouko Guardian spoken of in the Prophecy of the Kouko.”

            “The Prophecy of the Kouko?” Roka echoed, somewhat confused. “This a different one than before?”

            “It was spoken a century after the Prophecy of the Ancients’ Return,” the elf replied, “again by a Shadowmage, one of the few remaining in the world.  It is a guide intended for myself, the Gatherer, to provide clues to find each of the Kouko.  I believe it is also a guide for the rest of the Kouko, explaining their roles.”

“Children of Phoenix, rising again,

Battling always your draconic twins.

Children of Phoenix, now you begin

To release the legend within.

Sennyu, brushed with firebird’s soul,

Drawing together the Children, your goal.

Six shall make the circle whole.

Sennyu, this is your difficult role.

Kouryuu, washed by phoenix tears,

White crest of wave, to the sennyu adhere.

I name you guardian, so always stay near

To she who has found you and now brought you here.

Kentaurosu, marked by Kou’s talon,

Child of pine, guide of the dawn.

It’s the stars you’ll rely upon.

To the door in the valley will you be drawn.

Ikkakujuu, colored by Ho-Oo’s light,

Child of stars, keeper of the Sight.

All of the Children you must unite.

Ikkakujuu, see truth throughout the night.

Gurifon, touched by the firebird’s wing,

Honest be your heart, watching o’er everything.

Through valley and high mountains, from dawn to evening,

Watch for coming danger, and warning you shall bring.

Ningen, warmed by phoenix flame,

Quiet be your blade, silence be your name.

To conceal the Children is your foremost aim

Until there comes the day when truth must be proclaimed.

Children of the Phoenix, six in all,

Drawn together, brought together, by fate’s iron call.

Be sure your cause is right, lest the races fall

Or oppression cover Earth in darkness eternal.”

            Kumi finished reading in her clear, quiet voice, and then reread it silently to herself.  Something about the Kouryuu’s verse… “White crest of the wave?  White crest of the wave… That’s what the name Roka means! And in the Sennyu’s verse…” Violet eyes flicked upwards to quickly scan the second line of the verse. “Drawing together.  That’s what my name means!”

            “Elf-girl, you’ve lost me,” Roka told her, rubbing his temples. “All this stuff about magic and people that’re dragons but don’t know it, and this prophecy mumbo-jumbo… I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

            “The second line of each verse,” the elf said, pointing. “They’re actually the names of the Kouko.  ‘Kumi’ means ‘drawing together.’ ‘White crest of wave’ is the meaning of ‘Roka.’  The next verse, the centaur’s verse, says ‘child of pine.’  ‘Pine’ is ‘Matsu,’ and the ending ‘-ko’ adds ‘child.’” She opened her notebook and began writing furiously.

            The Kouryuu watched her actions curiously, but as the silence remained unbroken by all save the scrabbling of her pencil on the lined paper, he stretched and started to rise. “I’d better be getting’ home, then.  Thanks for the food.”

            Kumi looked up sharply. “What?  Where are you going?”

            “Home.  Where else?”

            The elf glanced down at her notes, and then back up at Roka. “But… the Prophecy… the Kouko…”

            He shrugged. “What about it?”

            “You’re the Kouryuu!” she exclaimed, finding her voice. “You’re the Kouko Guardian!  You’re supposed to help me find the rest of the Kouko!”

            The biker gazed down at the open pages of Shinwa Shiranai, at the dragon that snaked along one border. “I still don’t see what it has t’do with me,” he said, picking up his jacket and shrugging it on. “I’ve got a life that I’m happy with.  Don’t see a reason t’go on a fool’s quest and maybe ruin that.”

            The Kouryuu’s sharply defined features held a rare seriousness, green eyes shadowed with some dark thought.  Kumi watched him levelly, gaze never wavering for an instant. “Happy with a life dealing with whatever that man – Michio, was it? – was talking about?” she asked, voice quiet.

            He flinched minutely, visage darkening the slightest bit, and then forced a laugh. “Michio’s no problem,” Roka said casually. “I’ve got him thinkin’ I’m dependant on my guns, that my black belt’s nothin’ more than a title an’ a belt.” He bared his teeth in a savage expression that could scarcely be taken as a grin. “He’ll learn.”

            Kumi sighed and shook her head, then jotted down her phone number on her notepad.  She tore it free and handed it to the navy-haired teenager. “If you change your mind…” she began.

            He stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans. “I won’t,” he said flatly. “It was interesting, but not for me.  Thanks again for the meal.” He turned to go, then paused mid-step. “Sorry.”

            “Yeah.  I’m sorry too,” Kumi said softly, bitterly, watching Roka stride confidently out of the diner.