Suikoden II: Friendship
By Jonatan L
This is a short, angsty Luc fic. It takes place only a day or so
before the last battle in SuikoII, slightly after the last one, and was written in about
and one sitting.
I dunno what came over me. Really. But anyway, here
It was a dark and stormy night.
The Tower of the Phoenix, the tallest building in
and home to Lord Riou, shook. It wasn't a gentle shaking, either. The
castle had stood here for decades, but this tower was new, and maybe,
just maybe it wasn't as well built as the other, older parts...
Luc sighed. No, of course it was well built. But
there hadn't been
a storm like this for years, and it was having certain effects on the
stone. Powerful winds rattled the window shutters and in some places,
tore the green-lacquered wood clean off the hinges; it danced in the
empty streets, whistled around the corners. Rain pounded a loud
staccato on the slated roofs and ran in great rivers over the
cobblestones, turning stairs into tiny waterfalls.
The storm of the century. It felt like an omen.
What would tomorrow
bring? Would he meet his destiny then? Or did the wind perchance cry
for someone else? All he knew was that tomorrow... he would set out
to face another battle. The last, he hoped. Fighting was so...
barbaric. Beneath him.
He should sleep. He didn't get enough rest these
days; he was well
aware of it. But the wind... was something more important. The wind
was a part of him, and while it was awake, he could not sleep.
"You there! Stop - oh. Forgive me, I did not
Luc glared up at the soldier who blocked his path.
"Very well. Get
thee gone, warrior, and let me pass," he told the man, wasting a good
dose of his best sarcasm.
"Sorry, but I can't let anyone in or out -
besides, you shouldn't
go up on the roof in this weather."
"Thank you." Luc waved his hand tiredly.
"But I'm still
going to pass you one way or another."
The man considered this for a moment. Then he
stepped aside. Luc
almost pitied him.
The young sorcerer climbed the stairs. He
unlatched the hatch
leading onto the roof and stepped out -
The wind was overwhelming. It pulled him,
staggering, back, almost
sending him over the edge; the rain blinded him, the drops stinging
his eyes. He stood his ground and awakened his Rune, twisting the air
to circle around the tower, leaving the immediate area free from
turbulence. Suddenly the stone stopped shaking; he was standing in
complete and utter calm.
He drew a deep breath. The air tasted fresh, much
inside the musty castle. There was a slight tinge of ozone, and as he
noticed that, lightning flashed overhead, followed almost instantly
by a thunderclap. The weather gods were really putting effort into
this one. Or maybe they were having a big argument. Either way, it
was spectacular. Forked bolts danced across the sky, leaving burning
purple afterimages in his eyes.
Luc opened his arms wide as if to embrace the
storm, threw his head
back, and laughed. His concentration slipped, and a gust of wind
tugged at him, but he remained standing, enjoying the wind and the
rain. This was his life. Wind, and rain. The wind, free, but without
roots... drifting aimlessly. Like he had been, until he found
her. Or maybe she had found him. He wasn't certain. And then
there was rain. Rain for eternal sorrow, rain for the tears he had
shed in loneliness and bitter resentment towards humanity. It felt
better now, he must admit. Even after these hardships, it still felt
better now. He took care not to show it, but he couldn't deny to to
himself. It felt better. Not without sorrow, but... better.
Curse it... who am I fooling... I'm only
seventeen, I shouldn't be
seeing this... Perhaps... no one 'should' be seeing this.
Barbaric. That was what it was.
And the castle seemed... empty. It was strange,
how something like
that... could strike with such precision at the heart, the spirit, of
There had been countless deaths, but for some
felt different about...
He hadn't liked Nanami. Not one bit. He even
actively disliked her.
Whenever he had heard her voice, he wished she would just go away.
And now that she was gone...
And what made things worse was that he wasn't
alone. It wasn't
Lightning flashed towards him, and earthed itself
in the ground
right next to the tower, repelled by the Rune. He hardly even
Why didn't anyone cry for the hundreds who had
lost their lives
before her? Why was she so different? He couldn't understand, even
though he felt it himself, and it bothered him. He hated not
understanding. It made him feel weak, and he hated feeling weak. Even
as he loved the rain, he hated it, too, for making him remember his
weakness. Weakness! He stood here, commanding a power beyond mortal
ken, and still he was weak! He held up his right hand, palm
towards him, and stared angrily at the Rune, its intricate lines and
curves, its flickering aura of green, cyan and blue. Twenty-seven
True Runes in the world, and here he stood, holding the one that
symbolised something that in turn symbolised his life; wind.
He could feel the air. It let him. And now
he heard it move
behind him; long before he heard the voice speak to him.
"Oh. So you are here too." A voice he knew well.
"Oh no, not you again." What did she do,
He heard the sharp click-tap noise of hard shoes
against the stone.
"You don't seem too happy to see me."
"I'm not." No point in being anything else but
knew he said what was on his mind. He couldn't put much effort into
it right now, however. He crossed his arms over his chest, tucking
his right hand under his left arm. He didn't want to talk about it.
She was the only one who understood, anyway. No point in
trying to talk to anyone else about it.
Lighting flashed. It illuminated their features
sharply. In the
short moment of brightness, he saw that she was wrapped in a heavy
cloak; dark, though he could not discern which colour, and long,
brushing the ground.
"What are you doing out here in this weather, this
late in the
evening?" she asked.
"What are you doing?" He didn't want to
talk. What was the
"Nothing much. Thinking."
"...yes." He left it at that.
"And watching the storm, of course," she
ignoring the last remark. "I have... always found lighting...
He decided to try again. "Be careful not to
attract it. I don't
have enough strength to protect both of us." Hmph. Come to
think of it, he probably had. He could probably banish the storm with
a wave of his hand. If he'd only known how.
"But I do."
He turned his head to glare at her, and found
glittering in her eyes, the grey turned lightning-blue, and a corona
of white fading into deep blue surrounding her hand; the symbol of a
Lightning Rune marking otherwise flawless, pale skin.
"Fine..." He turned away before the next lightning
bolt could show
him looking at her. Maybe he wasn't getting rid of her, but better
then to ignore her than to acknowledge her presence. Perhaps she
would leave then. Not that he had any great hopes.
"So... what are you... thinking about, then?"
"...that isn't true, is it."
He turned to glare at her again, perfect timing; a
the ground only a few hundred metres away sharply revealing his
scowl. She only smiled back; her silver hair, not tied back tonight,
plastered about her head and shoulders; water running down her face,
soaking her cloak and making it hug her shoulders. He probably looked
worse, he realised. Not that it bothered him. It was only water. The
tears of the gods perhaps, but still, only water.
That smile bothered him, though. He had the
horrible feeling she
thought he was... 'cute', or something.
"...perhaps. Nothing that concerns you,
then," he told her,
and turned away from that slight smile and the kindness it offered.
"Perhaps not." She didn't sound offended.
What does it take to get rid of
"But perhaps you would feel better if you told
He sneered. "I doubt it."
"Care to try?"
The offer sounded sincere, and it hung in the air
for a while.
She shrugged; something he heard and felt in the
air more than saw.
For a while, there was merciful, soothing silence,
apart from the
clattering of the rain and the rumbling of thunder, but those things
seemed far off now; not important enough to notice.
He mourned the loss. His 'life', in the end, meant
nothing. He had
always known, of course... but he rarely felt it like this. Even
standing here, surrounded by things that made him feel truly alive,
He didn't know what he felt.
For it is the fate of the True Rune bearers, to
live forever on,
while everything they love withers and dies...
Had he been alone, he would have screamed out his
rage to the
storm, but he was not alone, so he let it flow out slowly. Tears. He
hadn't cried for a long time, but he found it strangely easy...
perhaps... it was not so bad after all... crying was something he had
feared, but the rain kissed his tears away now...
He felt a hand on his shoulder.
He ignored it. She insisted.
"What?!" he forced out.
"You are shivering. Come, let us go inside. I have
wine, and I'm sure there's enough for the both of us."
"...no... I'm staying." His voice, to his relief,
Still the hand on his shoulder remained. "If you
want. But I am
staying here with you, then."
He didn't answer. The wind, long free from his
tore at them, yet neither moved.
"It doesn't get better this way, you know."
He spun around, slipping his shoulder out of her
grasp. "What do
you know? What do you know about anything?"
Grey, blue-shimmering eyes met brown for a moment.
"No... I do not know anything about you... or your
past... or why
you come here every time a storm blows to cry in the rain... but
Luc... for this, do I really have to understand?"
He broke eye contact and looked down, to the
ground; didn't speak.
"If you let me know what you're running from,
maybe I can help."
"I'm not running!" He turned back and stared at
her defiantly. "I'm
never running again! Never!"
A thunderclap punctuated his last word. Then
He wasn't running. He had confronted Sasarai. He
was terrified, but
he wasn't going to run.
He'd rather die.
Her hand on his shoulder again. Curse her!
Couldn't she ever leave
"You don't need to tell me if you don't want to."
A finger lightly
brushed some hair out of his face. "But right now, you need to come
inside before you catch a cold. We need you, Luc. We depend on your
How could so few words warm so much, and hurt so
much at the same
time? He drew a deep breath.
Numbly, he let her lead him down the stairs. The
hatch slammed shut
behind them. The lone guard saluted them nervously as they passed,
but Luc hardly noticed. Nor did he notice as they walked down long,
dark and empty corridors, past a few other sentries, until they
finally reached the eastern wing of the castle. A door, one like many
others in the corridor, opened under a light touch, and he found
himself standing in a sparsely furnished room. The room was dominated
by a table and three chairs standing in the centre, on a small, pale
blue carpet; there was also a cupboard in the closest left corner, a
small desk under the window in the middle of the wall opposite the
door, a small stove in the far right corner, and a bed behind a
screen in the far left corner. Somehow he had expected more, but all
that hinted that the room was inhabited was a small pot on the stove,
a light grey cloak slung over the back of one of the chairs around
the table, and a round, fist-sized crystal on the cupboard; a slight
blue-white crackling of energy in its heart. She vanished behind the
screen for a moment, and returned with a dry cloak around her
shoulders, and a blanket from the bed, which she wrapped around his
shoulders before leading him to a chair. He followed her lead and sat
down silently. There was a slight scent of perfume in the blanket,
but not strong enough to be unpleasant. He didn't even complain as
she took a small, flimsy towel and wiped his cheeks and slicked his
hair back so it wouldn't fall over his eyes. He watched her stir
whatever was in the pot with a wooden spoon, then produce two slender
wineglasses from the cupboard and fill them to the brim with
sparkling red wine. She handed him one, and he took it, sipping
carefully. It was sweet, rich with spices, and warmed pleasantly. He
hadn't realised how cold he was. He was dimly aware of how she took a
seat opposite him, leaned her elbows on the table and her chin in her
hands. He concentrated on warming his own hands on the glass, and
sipping the warm wine.
He looked up. She was leaning her head in one hand
now, and slowly
turning her glass with the other; the glass moving against wood
making a soft sound that barely managed to penetrate the sound of the
"If you do not want to speak of the past, it is
your decision. I
was wrong to pry into your feelings."
He shook his head slightly. "'t's... no bother."
She smiled. "I'm glad." More silence. Comfortable
Then she took her glass and held it out.
Finally, he smiled. As the spry sound of glass
tinkled through the room and he repeated her last word silently,
confirming, he found a new, strange thought entering his mind.
Yes... maybe... I have finally found...
What? I had a chance to use the intro line, so of
course I used it. Duh. I didn't name Luc's 'friend';
but you shouldn't have any problems figuring out who it is. There's
only about 54 people to choose from, after all. :P
And dammit: yes, I like Luc! Even though he's a brat, he's an
interesting brat! And he has a Dark and Mysterious
Past™! Sure, SuikoIII may turn up info that renders this fic
utterly laughable (as if it wasn't already), but until then, so
what? And let me tell you something else! I like Nanami
too! What are you going to do about it, huh? Huh? What?
C&C is, as always, welcome, because with the way things look, I think
I need it.
I can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org,
if you find yourself wanting to tell me anything.