Thunder and lightning shook the old museum with an tremendous force, causing some seemingly ancient window panes to rattle in an unsettling way. Rain dripped down the glass, adding more damage to the water-stained wooden frames. A young girl, about sixteen or seventeen, sat seated on a couch in a small, lonely room. Apparently, this sad excuse of a fancy environment was what one would call a 'lobby'. The walls were painted a hideous gray color while the floors were an off-white cream. The girl assumed, at one point, the floor tiles were originally the typical sterile white color. The fail attempt of trying to spruce up the place with potted foliage made it all that much worse. Her sharp, slightly slanted rich brown eyes flickered off into the distance. As she zoned out, an older man wearing tan a rain coat and faded blue jeans scribbled down unreadable characters across a notepad.

"Grandpa..." She huffed out the word with an attitude, slinking down into the black and musty loveseat that was shoved in the corner of the room by the entrance. "Why did you insist on coming to this...place?" Her whole body jolted in disgust at the feel of the cloth, causing goosebumps to travel from the base of her neck to the tip of her toes. The mouthy little lips that graced its presence on her face turned upward, into an annoyed scowl.

"Silence, Rikugou." A gruff voice resonated through the room. The deep, withered sound held a certain type of knowledge, a knowledge beyond what anyone could even attempt to imagine.

"But, I still do no-!"

"Shush, and be quiet while I get everything in order."

The familiar teenage reverse physiology was easily shot down by the older man. He was short, barely reaching past five feet and five inches. His face looked like worn leather, creased with many wrinkles from crow's feet to smile lines. Age spots dotted his jaw in several places, as well as some faded scars. The more notable feature about him was his shining bald head, usually hidden by some American baseball team cap- it was either the Philadelphia Phillies, or the Pittsburgh Pirates.

What was really ticking Rikugou Shukun off was that blue notepad. Her grandfather gripped the small object like he was going to die without it. She continued to pout and mumble incoherent words as the elderly man 'tsk'-ed and ignored her childish tantrum. With each second that crawled by- Riku had the annoying, old-fashioned clock on the wall to tell her how many ticks had passed- the girl became more irate. The wait was more awful than the want to eat chocolate after a break-up, not that Rikugou had every had a boyfriend. All the teen wanted to do was go home and sleep her days away, but the duo had even yet to tour the museum.

If she didn't want to come, then why did she go in the first place? Well, that scheming little grandfather of hers went off, talking about how he wished to spend some quality time with his precious granddaughter before passing on. So, he goes and picks the most God awful place to tour for the day.

"Okay, all done."

"Finally!" A cry of relief emitted from the girl's mouth as she hopped from the couch. "All that work just to view one gallery, that's ridiculous." The whisper managed to float into her grandfather's ears, whom just gave off a small smile. Weird, but oh well.

"We are here to view the past and learn from the true master tellers. The old paintings." Her grandfather spoke as he walked slowly behind Rikugou. She wasn't sure where she was going, but she refused to tell him that. He would just give off that haughty laughter she had grown familiar to hearing.

"Turn right." The older man said upon seeing a much useful sign that read: "New gallery! Open: November 2002!" Chuckling slightly, Riku couldn't help but shake her head at the fact the red and orange paint on the sign was peeling and faded. Plus, it was 2012. The art show room was almost ten years old.

"The Edo showroom, huh?"

When Riku first entered the room, she noted that it is anything but interesting. There were only a few paintings, one of only five that looked intriguing, but right in the center of the room was some type of glass case. Rikugou slowly stepped forward, her eyes flickering from left to right, only to settle on the miraculous showpiece inside.

It was a katana, a very beautiful one at that. The black-colored blade, somehow was still gleaming brilliantly with almost no cuts on the metal. The whole thing was about 23 inches long, being shorter than some. It's edge seemed greatly dulled, but that was only logical. At the place where you held the sword was a criss-crossed twine. It overlapped each other several times, creating a nice place for gripping. Silver diamond shaped gaps were placed orderly on the holder, about five centimeters from the next. This pattern continued until it met the actual blade. The two sections were divided by a steel ring that looked greatly similar to a large washer bolt. On the ring was etched a floral pattern, presumed sakura petals. They were carved deeply yet cleanly into the metal, and finely painted with a stark white color. The sheath, placed next to the katana was even more breath taking. The cloth, like the blade, was a charcoal black color, but became lighter and lighter towards the tip. The top half of the sheath was encrusted with a gold band near the split while the bottom was wrapped with bandages.

Plastered to the class was a note with extremely fine print. The lettered text read: This ancient beauty was crafted in 1693 and wielded by none other than ...-

The paper, for a strange reason, was burned right before the name could be seen. "Odd." Rikugou shrugged it off, shortly becoming uninterested within the next five seconds. As she turned around to walk back to her grandfather's side, Riku was taken aback to realize he was gone. "Grandpa?" She called out, the words echoing through the room.

"Back here."

It sounded like it was coming from another room, and when the girl turned back around, she spotted an open door in the farthest corner. "What are you doing in h-.." Rikugou stopped short upon entering the even smaller room. It was like an extension of the main gallery, but only one painting remained. The walls were a cream color, but some parts of the plaster were faded in squares, like there had been more canvases hanging on the wall at one point.

"Wh..W-What is that!" Rikugou yelled out, aghast at the sight she had seen. The only painting took up the entire back wall, the colors were vibrant, and well detailed. Closing the door behind his granddaughter, the older man walked towards the painting at a turtle's pace. "Come." He swung his hands up in a 'follow me' motion. The confused girl merely followed in suit, her eyes averted from the spectacular art.

"Do you know who this is?" The grandfather asked, with a soft smile. Rikugou could only shake her head 'no'. The energy to speak was suddenly drained from her body.

"If you don't know, I do not think I should be the one to tell you."

Even without the hint, Rikugou assumed the picture was of an ancestor. Depicted in the picture was a woman, a woman who looked like a carbon copy of the girl. Sleek, shimmery black hair pulled into a simplistic pony-tail, high cheek bones, and clear skin; she was certainly ten times more stunning. Only, the pictured woman's whole 'aura' was completely different. Instead of a wimpy teenage girl, there was a powerful, prideful female samurai. Those onyx black eyes gleamed with a wise flare, and those vixen lips were tugged into a smirk, a well earned smirk.

"Grandpa, do you know her name?"

"Yes. I do."

He smiled once more, looking at Rikugou. She changed her mind about this museum. The girl was now very interested with what was here. Each time she looked at the picture, it became more and more beautiful. Rikugou's eyes skimmed every nook and cranny of it, not wanting to miss any detail. In the corner of the painting, the female's intense gaze snagged onto something strange. "What's that, Grandpa?" She pointed to the spot, tilting her head sideways and raising her eyebrows in a questioning manner.

"I do not know."

His face was blank, and unconcerned. Rikugou hesitated before touching the spot on the picture. The blue paint on the woman's kimono- coincidentally where the heart was- rippled, like the water above a dark ocean abyss. Curiosity nagged the back of Rikogou's mind, compelling her to touch. Without much thought to the matter, her hand slipped onto the canvas. The touch was light, nothing that would damage the paint. The silence that spanned over the five, extremely anxious minutes was almost ear splitting. Disappointed that nothing happened, Rikugou was about to move her hand when half her arm fell through the ripples on the kimono.

A scream omitted from the girl's mouth as she desperately tried to pry her limb from the painting, but it was like part of her was stuck in quicksand. More like, something was grabbing and pulling her while she resisted by dumbly flailing. Cries and shouts for help filled the room, drowning out whatever words her grandfather was trying to calm her with. The only thing that stood out to Rikugou's ear was the answer to 'what is happening!?'

"I do not know."

Such coldness infiltrated his voice. The sound chilled the struggling girl to the core, causing her useless resistance to freeze in place. The blue paint from the picture began leaking, like water dripping down off a table. It curled down her arms and wrapped around her back, pulling her into the painting. "Grandp-..!" The paint covered her mouth, muffling the sounds. Instead of the smell of acrylic or whatever was infused to make paint, it smelt of something flowery. Like sakura petals, to be exact.

Either Rikugo was harshly shoved, or pulled forcefully, the last thing she felt was a heavy force bring her into the painting. Her body felt odd. She felt like her lungs were constricted while her whole body was weighted down underwater. Riku's eyes automatically clamped shut, and the girl herself was close to tears. What was going on? What was happening? Why her? Was she inside the painting?

The last thing she heard was a few words from her grandfather, yet she wasn't even sure that he had spoken them. The sentence was drowned out by the fact Rikugou had been in the process of passing out for the past twenty seconds.

"Good luck, Megami."


Daily A/N:

Why, hello there my fabulous readers. I would just love to know what you think, so sending a PM or writing a review would be very helpful in aiding me on my story. Even typing anything from a long written out review to "I love it!" is extremely beneficial. I'd like to hear any predictions or thoughts on the characters so far, even if there hasn't been much personality shown. This is just more of an introduction than a legitimate chapter, so I apologize greatly for it being so slow. I just wanted you to see how Rikugou ends up in the past. It will get better next chapter, and that's a promise. I do hope you keep on reading, as this is the first time I've ever written a story. Constructive criticism is much needed, so anything you have, lay it on me! But being overbearing or a troll will get you removed.

Salutations

-Amkeki