THE LAST ONE PART 1: THE BEGINNING
Story by: Malus Wolfe
Edited by: Davey Rootbeer
Produced by : Your Mom
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Chapter 1: The Arrival
“Ben! Heads up!”
The ball came spinning in the air from the left field. I dove and hit it with my head. The goalkeeper never had a chance as it spun into the lower right corner, easy goal.
“Great job!” said Travis, one of my teammates.
“It was easy, no biggie!” I said, grinning. I never was the cocky type, I suppose. I didn’t like to put my teammates down: after all, they were the ones who supported me the most.
“You just won the game for us; you’d think you would be a little more excited.” Said Tom, laughing. Tom is my closest friend; we’ve been so ever since we were kids. We fight here and there, but we usually have the same tastes and interests.
“Oh well, that’s me I guess!” I said, stepping off the field. I opened my soccer bag, taking a look at my watch. It was already half past noon, and I had to be at the dojo at one in the afternoon. I grabbed my things, and sprinted down the street. “Sorry guys, have to go now, later!
Let me give you some background on myself. My name is Ben. I’m fifteen, your normal sort of guy. I’m captain of my soccer team, a good fighter, good in school, and the works. I’ve always had one “urk” about myself though. I always wear gloves. No, it isn’t a fashion statement: I’m covering up the two identical marks on my hands. They’re shaped like three triangle points all facing the center with a small ring connecting all three points. It isn’t very normal, my mother tells me it’s just a birthmark. I don’t believe her, but oh well, can’t do anything about it…
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I stepped into the dojo, panting from the run. I managed to make it with ten minutes to spare, so I stretched out my muscles and got into my fighting gear. I try to make it to the dojo every day. Although I don’t specialize in any martial art, I do know a few holds from here and a few grabs from there. The dojo I go to is free, and it is for the children in the neighborhood to fight against one another, to test their skills, and to learn to defend themselves. I’m one of the top students in the class, as I am very creative with my moves.
“Ok, are we ready to begin?” Mr. Atsu, our teacher, asked the class. He was a nice man who opened the dojo, and took his time to train children to defend themselves. I looked up to him as a father figure, as I never knew my own.
Today, I was pitted against an older child, much larger than myself. He came at me with an open palm, which I easily ducked under. He followed up with his right knee, trying to hit my stomach. Using my thigh, I deflected the knee, and I grabbed his extended hand, flipping him over my back. I love to fight; it seems to be in my blood. When I’m fighting, my entire subconscious seems to take over, and I know nothing. It's like i don't even control my own body during those times. it's been that was as long as i can remeber. As I helped the upper classman up, I smiled, and thought ‘Nobody can beat me.’
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My mother was working in the kitchen when I got home. She and I live alone in a small apartment in northern Japan. It’s an English-speaking community, so I’ve yet to learn Japanese, although I have picked up a few words here and there. She smiled at me when I walked in the door, and said “Food will be ready in about ten minutes, change up.”
That’s about the extent of our conversations. Although we are related, we live separate lives. It seems to me as if she’s always sad, or always crying. I try to help her as much as possible by taking care of myself, but I just can’t help feeling separated from her. I sat down on my bed, and let the sweat seep into my pores. Before my mother could call me in, I was asleep. She walked in, saw me, and put my food in the refrigerator, without saying a word.
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I woke up fifteen minutes later than usual, still in my fighting gear. I took a quick shower, grabbed some breakfast, said goodbye to my mom, and ran out the door for school. If I was lucky, I’d be on time. This was assuming I didn’t have any distractions, which I usually did.
“Hey! Wait up!” shouted Tom, running behind me. He was never on time, but made up for it by being a good runner.
“Hey!” I shouted back, still running.
“That was a really good play yesterday!”
“Thanks, but run a little faster! We’re going to be late for school!”
As Tom and I rounded the corner, we got a glimpse of some huge guy holding a purse in the air, staring at it. Two little girls stood at his feet, trying to jump up and get it. As one of the girls jumped up, the big man swung a fist and knocked her aside. She didn’t move.
“Ben, relax, let’s just keep going…”
I pushed Tom aside, dropping all my books. I ran at full speed with my fists clenched.
“Hey!”
“Oooo, look girleys… It’s SUPERMAN! GAHAHAHA!” said the bully, showing a toothless grin. He made a threatening gesture, and said “Get lost kid, or else you’ll wind up like her.” He pointed to the little girl, who was struggling to get up after his hit.
I just about lost it. I tightened my gloves, and said “If you feel tough, I welcome you to try and attack me.” I barely had time to slide into a stance as the big man charged. He swung an oversized fist, which I sidestepped, knocking the fist away with the back of my hand. I didn’t intend to give him time for another; I slammed my right knee into his stomach, grabbed his arm, vaulted myself up, and kicked him in the back of the head with my left foot. He fell like a ton of bricks. Tom dialed the police on his cell phone, and I checked on the two girls.
“You girls ok?” I asked, helping the injured one.
“Yes, thanks to you! That guy was trying to take our money!” The girls replied. An adult came into the street, and promised to stay with the unconscious man until the police came. Tom grabbed my arm and started running.
“I hate it when you do that!” said Tom, panting, “Now will you hurry up? We’re going to be late for school!
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I was sprinting up the field at full speed. We were in a game to go to the state finals. The score was tied, and there were only two minutes left on the clock. I quickly cleared the ball to the left side of the field, to save myself from the oncoming defenders. I glanced at the crowd for a quick second, scanning for people I knew. Just then, a glimmer caught my eye. There was a girl, with shimmering blue hair. She seemed to stand out, and nobody seemed to notice her. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. I stared, she seemed to be screaming to me, but I heard no words, I only saw her mouth moving. “Whoa…” I said, in awe.
“Ben! Look out!” someone shouted. The ball cracked me in the side of the head like a jackhammer to cement. I was out cold…
When I finally came two, it was damp and cold. It didn’t take me long to figure out that I was in the middle of a forest… I saw the sun in front of my face. I started to walk straight ahead…I didn’t know where I was, but I would eventually find someone if I walked. I continued to trek, without a worry in my mind.
I sighed, after walking a ways. “This is taking forever! I’ve been walking for a half an hour…oh?” There were two stones spaced neatly apart in front of me. Each one had a symbol of three triangles pointed inward. I recognized it as the symbol on my palms. All of a sudden my hands started burning with tremendous pain.
“AAAAAUUUGHHHH!” I roared, as my gloves slipped off my hands. The marks were glowing with a strange blue light. The same glow appeared on the stones. The pain increased as two threads of blue light extended from my palms, going into the stones.
“AAAAARRR…GHHHHAAA!!!” My screams were cut short as the glowing stopped. I lay on the ground, gasping for air, but I pulled my head up to look. There was a huge picture surrounded by the same color of blue light in between the two stones. It was a forest, but it seemed different from the one I was in. Against all better judgment, I wanted to go through. Slowly I put my hand through. It didn’t hurt a bit. I stepped through the light.
When I emerged from the portal I was still in the forest of the picture...but the sights, smells, and sounds were all different. There was a man dressed in strange clothes playing a small guitar, leaning against one of the trees.
“Who are you?” I muttered, my hands still aching.
The man looked directly into my eyes, piercing them with a stare that seemed full of mystery. he looked down. “A bard.” The man slowly replied. I didn’t know what a bard was, but he pointed to his guitar. all of a sudden, the mystery in his eyes cleared up, as if a lightbulb had gone off in his head. He smiled at me, and looked at my palms. His next words I would remember for the rest of my life.
“Welcome to Yamakai, Planeswalker.”
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