Breath of Fire 1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Since I _always_ forget, this applies to all chapters. I do not own Breath of Fire IV, or any of the others.

Opening Notes: I feel Fou-lu is unappreciate. Well, all of BofFIV is. So here we are! Enjoy and review!

---------  
Prologue  
---------

Eyes opened, as delicate brows drew together.

Where was this? This was not his place.

Picking himself up slowly, he gazed around. Trees and… earth? A forest? Yes, that was right.

He pressed a hand to his forehead. How did he know these things? He'd never seen a tree before, or stood on earth… or had a hand. Eyes widening in wonderment, he held the appendage before his eyes, examining it. Had he always had a hand?

His mouth creased slightly in irritation, He _didn't understand!_

He rose onto his haunches, supporting himself slightly on one hand, gazing about his surroundings again. _He didn't remember!_ How did he get here? Where had he been before? Had he even _been?_

He moaned slightly, shaking his head as though to clear the confusion. He rose shakily to his feet, and wobbled for a few moments, before steadying himself. Panting slightly, he stared warily around, before taking a few tentative steps forward. He wobbled again, before giving a satisfied nod and continuing forward, growing more confident with each step.

He walked through the woods with relative ease, once he had mastered walking. He had absolutely no idea where he was headed, however it seemed that any place would be just as good – or better – than where he had been. Besides that, his body was making odd sounds of… hunger? Yes, that sounded right. He needed to eat.

He saw a break in the trees, and his pace quickened slightly. Perhaps he could find out where he was, and maybe even _who_ he was!

He slowed to a stop at this new thought. Who? His brows furrowed again, his momentary pleasure forgotten in this new puzzle. Who was he? Surely he must have an identity of some sort.

He stared at his hands, his forehead creased in thought.

"Pray thee tell me, young man, what is it you are doing?"

He snarled, the voice startling him out of his reverie. He dropped instinctively onto his haunches, leaping back from the owner of the voice.

He blinked in surprise, seeing a kindly-looking old man blinking slowly standing before him.

"Enow, young one." He continued gently. "What is it thou is't doing here, alone in this wood? And…" He continued, eyeing the young man up and down, "Without clothing of any sort?"

The younger of the two blinked in confusion, his stance relaxing slightly.

"Clothing?" He said slowly, his voice cracking from disuse, "That is…?"

The man's eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

"Young man." He said after he had calmed, "Where is it that thou dost hail from? For sooth, that country must be one of odd customs, to have no type of clothing."

"Where… do I hail from?" The younger repeated, pressing his hand to his forehead, "That is…" He groaned, crouching further down.

The older man frowned, seeing that the younger was in obvious pain. Slipping the top layer of his kimono off, he slid it over the youth's thin shoulders.

"Thou shoulds't not worry overly much. Verily, if thou hads't lost thy memory, it shall come back when it is time, and no sooner."

The youth looked up at the elder, spring-green eyes wide. "I…"

"Thou mayst stay with me, for a time. My home is not far." The old man smiled kindly.

"I…" The young man frowned again, pulling the kimono closer around him as he stood to his full height. "I thank you."

The old man simply smiled benignly up at the youth, before walking past him towards the woods edge. "I truly wonder where it is that thou dost hail from, young man. Never have I heard of a country that has people with hair such as thou's." He said as they walked, "I hads't thought that only people of mine age and wisdom had silver hair."

-----------------  
End Prologue  
-----------------

Closing Notes: Well, there you have it. I considered making it a chapter, but I liked this better. I hope the language didn't sound too awkward. O.O And I hope it was obvious enough who it is. I can't name him this early in the story… it's too important a plot point. But hopefully it's obvious enough, both from the summary (That's why you're here, no?) and the clues in the prologue. Until next time, review!


	2. Chapter 1

**IMPORTANT NOTICE: **My username will be changing! So for those of you whose links or something rely on that, keep your eyes open!

* * *

Chapter One

* * *

He yawned, and stretched, frowned as the book on his lap fell from the displacement. Bending, he picked it up, dusting off the cover and staring thoughtfully at it for a few moments, before shrugging and placing it next to him. 

He hopped lightly to the ground, stretching out the kinks that had formed from his prolonged bout of reading, before glancing around suspiciously and, giving a small smile, attempting to slink off to places unknown.

"And where dost thou think thou ist going, young man?" A voice called out.

The youth winced, before turning to face the owner. "I was simply going for a walk." He offered lamely.

"And abandon thine reading? Thou shalt never have any sort of knowledge if thou dost abandon it at every turn." The elder chided.

The youth at least had the decency to look abashed. He desired knowledge, and loved to read, however…

"But master." He offered, "Today is such a fine day. T'would be a shame to waste it with reading."

The elder frowned, but his eyes shined with amusement. "Very well. Thou does obviously not wish to read, so we shall try another." He stepped down off the patio where he had been standing, and hobbled slowly – in the way elders normally do – towards where the youth was waiting patiently. He placed a familiar hand on his shoulder.

"If thou dost not wish to read, then perhaps…" He trailed off, before – quick as lightning, despite his age – flung his hand out, palm forward, aiming for the youth's chest.

Half expecting this – the elder had done this often – the youth, with a graceful leap, flipped backwards, out of the elder's reach.

The elder chuckled, placing his hands back behind his back, once again the image of a kindly old man. He eyed the younger one, who, by now, had fallen into a fighting stance. He certainly was different from the youth he had found naked in the woods that day, as ignorant as a newborn babe.

The elder had managed to dig out some of his robes from his younger days, and had thus given them to the youth. Now, clothed in a simple and traditional royal purple shirt and pants, held up by a red sash, he was far gone from his previous self. He had insisted on keeping his silver hair grown out and loose – for whatever reason the elder could not imagine, however it wasn't an issue, so he didn't press it. Overall, once he had been clothed and cleaned, the youth was incredibly handsome, and the elder had no doubt that he would be 'beating women off with a stick', as many put it. He also, however, no doubt that the youth could easily be taken advantage of, seeing as he seemed totally naïve to the traitorous ways of man.

All in all, the elder was glad he was a hermit.

Thus, he had also taken it upon himself to educate the youth in the ways of humanity so that, once he left the elder's home and headed out into the world (which the elder had no doubt he would do, the boy was bent on finding out who he was) he would be able to do so knowing full well what to expect.

The youth took the elder's seeming lapse in defence as a chance to attack, making a quick and forward attack on the elder. The elder chuckled again as the youth dropped to the ground, attempting to throw off the elders balance by tripping him. He had seen this coming, however, and the elder took a few steps backwards, avoiding the attack and causing the youth to overbalance. Twisting, the youth regained his feet and attempted to attack again, however the elder held up a hand, stopping the youth in his tracks.

"Today is too warm for someone of mine age to do such rigorous exercise." The elder said, hobbling back to the patio. "Today thou shalt practice thine swordplay."

The youth brightened, nodding and heading off to where the swords were kept. The elder shook his head, a small smile gracing his lips. The youth was an odd one, but he was a good child. He could see great things for him – whenever the two discussed politics (which was difficult, seeing as how they lived as hermits, and at the time there was no 'politics' to speak of) the youth would ask very heavy questions, ones that the elder had no answers to. The youth – despite his ignorance – was wise beyond his years, almost to the point that it scared the elder. He had knowledge of the inner workings of man – and not in the ways that man was meant to know. The youth did not know of mans _outer_ workings, to be sure – he did not know of their backstabbing and ignorant ways, hence the fact that the old hermit was bent on teaching them to the boy. What he _did_ know, however, was how man _instinctively_ acted – what he thought and what he would do.

It was these things that lead the elder to believe the youth would go forth to do great things. Perhaps he would even end the war?

The elder nearly laughed out loud at his own thought. He doubted anyone would be able to end this war, even the youth.

"What dost thou find so funny, master?" The youth asked, returning with sword in hand.

"I was merely remembering a story, young one." The elder smiled as the youth blinked patiently. With a cough, the elder continued, "Two meat buns are sitting in a steamer, and one turns to the other and quotes thus 'Dost thou find it hot in here?' and the other bun replies thusly, 'My goodness! A talking bun!'" He paused, waiting for the laughter.

The youth merely sighed and shook his head.

The elder frowned. That was one of his best jokes, too. It had become a pursuit of his – nearly a habit – to try and make the youth laugh, something he had never seen the boy do in all their time together. Even smiles were few and far between, and the ones he did manage to catch were normally tight-lipped, at best.

"Hmm. Well, why dost thou not start? Basic form." The elder sighed, sitting down on the patio.

The youth began his basic drills, and over the course of the day, moved forward into the more advanced ones. However, some time before evening, he paused.

"Master." He began, a slight frown marring his face, "Why dost thou train in martial arts with me, but not swordsmanship?"

The elder looked up briefly from his book, "Because, young one. My knowledge of swordsmanship is limited to what I hath read in books. Even my knowledge in the martial arts is limited to the basic training that everyone hath learnt in the capital." He returned to his reading.

The youth frowned, "Then why dost thou practice with me? And why dost thou always win?"

The elder chuckled, closing his book, seeing he wasn't going to get any reading done, "I practice with thee to keep mine self sharp, and it is good to spar with someone other than thine self. As for why the victory is always mine…" He gave a sly wink, "Years of experience, young one."

He stood stiffly, turning back towards the main house as the youth resumed his drills. "Thou should'st rest. Tomorrow we are going to town, and it is not an easy hike."

The youth nearly dropped the sword in astonishment. In all his time spent with the old hermit, he had never even brought up the vague _notion_ of going to town, much less an intent.

"Truly, master?" He questioned, green eyes wide and bright.

"Indeed. I'm a'feared my clothes shall not fit thee much longer, and there are many things which one cannot get in the mountains." He grinned, sensing the youth's excitement – the youth was too caught up in etiquette to allow himself to show it, but the elder had learned the youth's body language enough to tell.

"Come. We shalt start dinner, and put ourselves to bed early."

The rest of the evening past without event, though the elder could see that the youth was far more restless than usual. Not without reason, of course – the youth had never known another person aside from the elder.

They started the next morning for, as the elder had said, the nearest town was a fair distance away, and they had to carry much with them. As they were hermits, they had no money to speak of, and thus had to rely on trading, meaning they had to carry their goods with them. The youth took the bulk without complaint, and the elder easily let him. No use straining _his_ back, when the youth had plenty enough strength for the both of them. The youth also carried a sword around his waist, should a monster choose to attack them – not uncommon for these mountains, but the monsters in those parts had grown use to the two, and as such normally left them alone. But it never hurt to be cautious, as the elder was always saying.

Their pace was brisk – set by the youth – and they made good time. It helped that the day was fine, and, once they had reached the main road, their way made easy. They were in view of the village slightly before noon, however – perhaps out of some twisted kind of spite – the elder insisted they stop for lunch there and then, with the village clear in their sights.

The youth ate his lunch quickly, meanwhile the elder did the opposite, deriving great amusement from the youth's obvious impatience, something he had never seen the youth show before. The youth shifted, his gaze alternating between the village, nestled at the bottom of the mountains, and the elder, who was just finishing up his lunch.

The youth rose as if to make ready to leave, but the elder shook his head, motioning him to sit down again. Perplexed, the youth did so, if stiffly.

"Now then, young one." The elder began, sounding tired, "Thou must remember where it is that we are going. Though this is no large city, it is still rife with criminals and the like. Verily, sometimes the worst of people may be found in a place such as this." He waved his hand in the direction of the village.

The youth nodded. He'd heard all this before.

"Thus, thou must be careful, and stay by mine side." The elder continued, "I wouldst very much like to give thee free reign, however, in this time of war, one cannot be too sure."

The youth nodded again.

"Though shalt stay by mine side?" The elder pressured.

The youth nodded again.

"Very well then. Let us continue on our way." He said, rising and shouldering his pack.

The two continued on to the village in relative silence – something the elder found strangely disconcerting. Not to say the youth's silence – the two sometimes did not speak for days at a time – however just the general _silence_. He knew this village was no bustling centre, but that did not explain the absence of _everything_.

His stomach clenched painfully. Perhaps they'd been struck by the plague? The village_ looked_ perfectly fine, that could be the only explanation. The youth, however, struck on, unperturbed. He had no idea what to expect, and thus, was unconcerned with the lack of sound and movement.

The youth crossed the threshold.

The elder realized the sickness that had infected the village.

'Soldiers.' He nearly snarled out loud.

The youth turned back to the elder, "What is wrong, master?" He blinked his spring-green eyes.

"You there!" Some miscellaneous soldier called, seeing the newcomers. Or rather, seeing the youth.

The youth turned to face the soldier as he jogged up to meet them, as the elder hobbled up to the youth's side.

"I thought so." The soldier grinned, "There _was_ some young blood hereabouts."

The youth simply blinked.

"What's your name, boy?" The soldier questioned, falling into 'drill-sergeant' mode.

"He does not have a name." The elder offered.

The soldier blinked at him, not having realized the elder was there. He frowned, his black eyebrows furrowing together. He seemed to be debating with himself, before stating gruffly, "I wasn't asking you."

"My master is correct. I have no name." The youth repeated.

The soldier snorted, turning back to the youth, "And how can someone have no name? You tell me your name now, boy, so that we can at least put a name on your grave." His voice lowered to a snarl.

"He hast no name because he hast no memory." The elder explained, sounding much as a person explaining something tiresome to a child, "It t'would be unfair to give him a name that was not truly his own. Thus, I hath given him none."

The youth raised an eyebrow, clearly confused, "Why wouldst thou wish to know mine name for mine grave?"

"He wants to take thee to war." The elder sighed beside him, "I'm afraid that thou ist mistaken, good soldier. I require the young man's aid at mine home in the mountains."

"And _I'm_ afraid that you'll have to make due, old man. All men of fighting age are to join up with the army to fight in the war." The soldier snarled.

"And do I have no choice in this? Verily, it seems foolish that I would have no say." The youth said, intersecting the two.

"Of course you don't, you little pecker." The soldier roared, rounding on the youth, who blinked slightly in surprise, "_All_ men. That includes you. You'll make excellent cannon fodder (1)" The elder opened his mouth to say something, but the soldier turned to him before he could say it, pushing the youth aside, "And _you._ I don't care _who_ you think you are, old man, with all your 'thus' and 'thous', but the world has no need for you pathetic little 'intellectuals'." He spat the last word out, extenuating it with a poke in the chest, "This world needs _power_ to end the war, something which something like _you_ could never hope to offer. Now this _boy_ is coming with _me_, whether you like it or not!"

"I shall not." The youth nearly growled.

The elder blinked. _That_ was a tone he'd _never_ heard from the youth.

"I cannot leave my master. My training is not complete. And there is nothing that thou can say that shall deter me." He said all this lowly, threateningly – it made the elder's bones quake.

"I get it." The soldier said after a pause, "So you feel 'grateful' to this old man? Since he cared for you? You want to 'repay' him?" He said mockingly, "Something like that is easily ratified." He raised his spear, something neither the elder nor the youth had noticed until now, and made to strike the elder through.

The youth wasn't there, and then he was.

The soldier blinked, seeing his blow blocked by the youth, whose sword had _somehow_ been drawn.

"Thou shalt not kill this man." The youth growled, and the soldier cowed slightly, noticing the youth's eyes seemed to slit for a split second.

He recovered, though, pushing back on the youth, "And what are you going to do, you damn pretty boy?"

"Thou-shalt-not-kill-this-man." The youth repeated, more forceful this time.

The soldier pulled back suddenly, nearly causing the youth to loose his balance. "I won't kill the old man if you agree to come with us. It could all be easily solved with that."

"I do not wish to, thus I shall not." The youth repeated, relaxing slightly.

"Then we'll force you to come." The soldier growled, motioning to the group of soldiers who had been standing, unnoticed, in the town, waiting to 'coerce' people into joining their ranks.

They quickly surrounded the youth, who turned to the elder, "Master, take thine self away from here."

"Thou ist being a fool!" The elder hissed, "Thou cannot take all these at once!"

"I shalt do my best, master. Now take thine-self back!" The youth raised his voice, causing the elder to widen his eyes and cower slightly.

"Very well." He nearly whispered, hobbling out of the circle of soldiers, who let him pass easily – he was not who they were after.

The youth shifted slightly, re-adjusting his weight and lowering his fighting stance. The first soldier motioned, and a single man moved forward, making an awkward swing at the youth, who parried it easily. A second soldier joined the first, and the two tried to attack the youth, but he blocked both gracefully. It continued this way, until a forth joined the third – both of whom were obviously more skilled than the first pair. He blocked both, albeit clumsily. The head soldier merely grinned, obviously enjoying the cocky youth's downfall.

A fifth, a sixth, a seventh.

The youth was down on the ground.

The head soldier approached, kicking the youth angrily in the ribs.

"You'll learn your place." He spat.

The youth shuddered, rising shakily on his hands.

"I shall not leave." He said, his voice steadier than his body gave way to.

"Out of gratitude to the old man?" The soldier repeated, "As I said, easily rectified." He motioned to one of the soldiers.

The youth looked up, seeing the faceless soldier approaching his master, sword in hand, and his master with a frown on his face.

Is this what humanity was?

Violence? Anger? Oppression?

White lightning flashed behind his eyes, blinding him with pain. He screamed, falling to the ground and curling in on himself.

The soldier sneered, thinking the emotional upheaval was too much for the boy.

Bone cracked.

Flesh split.

A roar split the skies asunder.

-----------------  
End Chapter 1  
-----------------

(1) Excuse the expression. I don't think they had cannons, but…

Closing Notes: There you are, successfully completed. And very long, as well. O.o I think this is the longest _singular_ chapter I've ever written. But I guess that's because I decided it was going to end THERE, and by god it was!

Once again, I hope the language wasn't too bad (Me writing: Is it thee? Or thou? Or –Oh my god is it thine! O.O) Thank god for English 20 is all I have to say. XD

Speaking of, this chapter had symbolism! I'm not very fond of symbolism, seeing as how my English teachers insist on seeing it when it wasn't intended that way, but when reading this over and discovering them was fun. So if you ever feel the inclination to read this over again, keep you eye out! Hint: The title.

Oh! And to my lone reviewer, I thank you. You made me laugh. You really _should_ have seen the nudity in the last chapter coming. XD As for the grammar, yeah, I know, my computer whines at me too… but it's a toss up between how it sounds and what the computer says. Normally I go with how smoothly it sounds.

And speaking of reviews - for the LOVE OF GOD, Do NOT go 'ZOMG DATS NOT HIM LIEK YOU SUK!1111' I shudder at the mere thought of THOSE kind of reviews. Not that I think any of you guys would leave reviews that involve bad MSN lingo and stuff, it's there for emphasis. Anyways, don't go whining at me that he's out of character - you must remember, this fic is about how he got to be who he was. Development!

And lastly, review!


	3. Chapter 2

Warnings: Violence, swearing.

* * *

Chapter 2

* * *

He gasped in pain, half-falling, half-stumbling into a tree. Why was he in such pain? He felt as though someone had taken his nerves and spread them out on the rack.

He groaned, sliding down on the ground and burying his face in his hands. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically. It was dawn, and he had no idea where he was or where home was. Did he even want to go back?

He raised his head, shaking it as he did so. He didn't want to go back. He rose, leaning on the tree for support, before limping down the road again. He had to move forward.

_He groaned, pulling himself to his full height. He was filthy, covered in dirt and… he didn't want to think about it._

He perked, slightly. Perhaps a quick bath would make him feel better. Veering off the path – still limping – he headed into the woods, where he'd seen the glimmer of water some time ago.

He made his way slowly, stopping often to rest. He was so tired… but he couldn't afford to rest.

_His lips pursed together as he bowed to the marker. Wasn't it supposed to be his name on the grave?_

He couldn't help but sigh in contentment as the river came into view. Stripping quickly, he dipped into the water, diving under to wet his hair. Slicking his hands through it after he surfaced, his grimaced. There were bits of ….

Ugh. He'd rather not think about it.

Instead, he opted to dive under again, scrubbing his hair vigorously.

He surfaced again, wringing his hair out, before proceeding to scrub the rest of his body with sand from the riverbed until it glowed an irritated pink. He wanted that stuff _off_.

When he was finished, the sun had risen fully, though he had taken no notice. He began to climb out, but paused. _He_ was clean, but his clothes most certainly were not. He grabbed them, grimacing again, before proceeding to scrub them as well. He had nothing to clean them with, so unfortunately a scrub and rinse was the best he could manage.

Satisfied – for the moment – he laid the clothes on some stones to dry in the mid-morning sun. He groaned again, rolling onto the soft grass. He was so tired…

He closed his eyes. Nothing else he could do, besides.

_The leader of the troop, the big one who had started the whole episode, took a step back, his eyes wide and dilated. _

_The youth howled in pain, his voice rising in a crescendo to inhuman heights._

_Several of the lesser soldiers dropped their spears and ran._

_The youth stayed, crouching, for a few moments, gasping for breath as the pain began to recede._

_He shifted his weight, flexing his wings._

_Blink._

_He shifted his weight to his hind legs – _hind legs?! –_ and gave his wings an experimental flap. Twisting his neck around he examined himself. He made some sounds in his throat, blinking in surprise._

_The soldier, regaining some semblance of calm, scrambled to pick up his spear where he'd dropped it, and clambered to his feet, rushing towards where the elder sat, frozen in shock._

_The youth –_ youth? – _took notice of the soldier's movements, but did nothing, so intent was he on his examination. The solder was but an insect, to be crushed if he stung._

"_Hey, boy!" The soldier cried, hysterics tinging the edges of his voice, "Why don't you just give up? I've got the old man!"_

_The youth looked up, his slitted eyes narrowing._

_The elder simply stared incredulously, his eyes flicking between the soldier and the youth._

"_Now… why don't you just calm down and change back to that pansy-ass you were before… then we'll take you to the capital." The soldier continued, "You'll make a fine killer, you damn freak!" He laughed here, hysterics once again creeping in._

_The youth narrowed his eyes further, as if to say_ 'I told you before. I shall not leave.'

_The soldier snarled, "Well, fuck! You're _going to join us, _you little shit! Or do you want this old man to die?!"_

_The youth twisted around so he was facing the soldier, his wings spread. A growl rose up in his throat, so low and inhuman it caused the soldiers face to pale further, if that had even been possible._

"_Fine! Be that way, you little pecker! I'll show you what it means to mess with me!" He raised his spear, and struck down on the elder._

_The world seemed to take a sharp gasp at the soldier's actions, as the man in question cackled hysterically. The elder, the spear still thrust in his shoulder, gasped._

_The youth was silent._

Why is Master in such pain?

_The elder wretched the spear out of him, the blood pouring. Not immediately fatal, but enough that a man of his age would most certainly die._

Bloodwhywastheresomuchblood.

_The soldier continued in his tirade. "This is what will happen to all who oppose us! Even freaks like you are not safe! All who oppose us shall perish!" He screeched._

Snap.

The youth opened his eyes with a start. He must have dozed off.

Groaning, he rolled over, his muscles screaming in protest. Shielding his eyes, he searched for the sun. Finding it, he groaned again, seeing it was crawling towards evening.

He lifted himself up onto his hands, searching around for his clothes. Finding them – thank goodness they were relatively unharmed, if a little bleached – he dressed quickly, combing his fingers through his silver hair. It was knotted, but at least it was fairly clean. He paused, dropping his hands to his sides. Staring at his reflection in the water, he was silent.

Then he howled.

He fell to his knees, tearing at his skin, his hair, the earth beneath him.

What was he?!

Where was he supposed to go?

What should he do?

All these passed through his mind, albeit in less coherent words.

He settled a bit, breathing heavily and sobbing, but he had stopped attacking himself. Deep gashes marked where he had.

'_Master…'_

He gave a few more hiccupping sobs.

"_Mmm?"_

"_What am I?" He asked softly, leaning against the tree next to the old man._

"_A dragon." The elder replied simply._

_The youth frowned, "But what does that mean?"_

"… _I do not know."_

_He blinked slowly, "But how canst thou not know? Thou always dost know."_

_The elder chuckled tiredly, "Well, I certainly didst not know thou wast a dragon."_

_The youths frown deepened._

_It seemed to be a peaceful scene. The elder and the youth, sitting quietly under a tree at sunset. It would have been peaceful, were it not for the unmatched carnage that surrounded the two. Houses, burnt to unrecognizable ashes – even the stone walls had been melted by the flames. Corpses littered the town, of varying size and position. Some seemed to be prostrated before whatever had killed them, perhaps in supplication. Other curled in upon themselves, perhaps in fear. One in particular, not too far from the two, looked like he had experienced an especially nasty death._

"_I didst not mean to…" The youth began._

_The elder chuckled again, patting the youths hand companionably, "Thou shouldst not worry overly much."_

"_Mayhaps…" The elder continued, "Mayhaps thou wast sent here to end the war."_

"_Verily? Thou thinkest so?" The youth blinked in surprise._

"_I canst think of no other reason. Dragons… they are as gods to we mortals." His eyes were half-lidded. "They arrive only when we are in great danger."_

_The youth blinked again, before turning back to the sunset._

"_Master?"_

"_Mmm?"_

"_There ist something I wouldst like to tell thee."_

"_Mmm?" The elder shifted to a more comfortable position._

"_Mine name… mine name is Fou-lu."_

_The elder blinked in surprise, black edging his vision._

"_How… appropriate… Remember, Fou-lu… why that ist thine name…"_

"_I will, master. And I _will_ end this war."_

The youth shuddered, picking himself up slowly. Of course… he must end this war. He could not be stopped here.

Ignoring the pain in his body and his mind, he walked forward.

His destiny was one of greatness.

-------------------  
End Chapter 2  
-------------------

Closing notes: Sorry. All that waiting and very little to show for it. This is more of an interlude than a chapter… but whatever. I thought that was an appropriate place to end it, if a tad lame. XD I wanted to get up to his name (oooh, what a twist! sarcasm) and then end it, sooo….

Sorry. But reviews make me update faster!

Oh! And apologies about the awkward language, again. And one point I actually FORGOT, so I had to go back and correct it… Luckily, this chapter didn't have too much talking. At least on Fou's part. XD

And about the 'appropriate/ambiguousness' of Fou's name… I'll get to that. ;P Just you wait.


	4. Chapter 4

Opening Notes: Another chapter, another sleepless night. _Ugh._

* * *

Chapter 3

* * *

Wu-Zhao led a simple life. Her village, though not untouched by the war, was relatively unharmed by it. Besides, of course, the fact that after the recruiters had taken all the young men from the village, they'd been left with nothing but women and elders. 

However, this was no terrible inconvenience, in Wu-Zhao's mind. Men could do nothing that the women could not handle by themselves. And if the men wanted to go out there and get themselves killed, that was none of her business.

Though, that meant that Wu-Zhao was viewed as something of an outsider. It also meant that she was single, finding all men too idiotic to bother spending too much time with any one. It _also_ meant that when she found the man, lying unconscious from exhaustion in the street, she had seriously considered leaving him there.

On the other hand…

And so here she was. Sitting in her house, caring for an incredibly boring (_and incredibly handsome, _she thought with a chuckle) young man who'd been sleeping for several days.

She wondered if she should just throw him into the street again.

Sighing, she stirred the thin gruel again.

She heard something from his general direction stir. She started, nearly dropping the wooden spoon into the pot. She managed to catch it, but not before burning herself on the lip of the pot.

Cursing, she blew on the burn, glaring at the cause, though she could barely make him out in the shadows of her small hut.

"Where…" He gasped, his voice cracking, "Where is this?"

"Well, that's a fine way to say hello." Wu-Zhao hissed. "I save you, bring you here, care for you, and BURN myself because of you, and all you can do is demand where you are?"

She saw his luminous green eyes blink.

"My…my apologies. I didst not realize that thou hadst done so much. I thank you." She saw him incline his head slightly.

She raised an eyebrow at his speech. "Well, whatever. As long as you learnt your lesson." She sniffed, turning back to the gruel.

She heard him shift again, and turning to see him climbing out of the cot. He flinched, and stumbled, before heading towards the door.

"And _where_ do you think you're going?" Wu-Zhao growled.

"I am going…" The youth blinked. Where WAS he going exactly? "I am going to the capital." He decided.

"What, just like that?" The woman stood, walking over to the youth and poking him resolutely in the chest, "Do you realize how much time I've spent taking care of you? You could at _least_ hang around and help out in return!"

The youth blinked. What she said was true, however…

"But I must be on my way." He protested slightly.

"Whatever it is can wait until tomorrow." She replied.

As if in agreement, the youth's stomach rumbled in agreement. He frowned again, but eventually made his way towards the pot, sitting down and crossing his legs.

She ladled out the gruel into a bowl, handing it to the youth. "So what's your name, anyways?"

The youth blew on the hot gruel slightly, grimacing at the smell, before looking up at the question.

"Fou-lu." He replied quietly.

"Fou-lu? That's an odd name." She said, screwing up her face.

Fou-lu frowned slightly. "That may be, however that ist mine name."

"Alright, alright, I didn't mean anything by it." She replied, holding her hands up defensively. Picking up her own bowl, she began to silently – and almost sullenly – eat her own broth, glancing occasionally at the youth who was doing the same.

They ate their dinner in silence, until both curled up in their blankets and fell asleep.

* * *

Wu-Zhao woke with a start, blinking in the sunlight that was currently flooding her small hut. She glanced around confusedly for a few moments, _convinced_ that there was something she should be concerned about. 

Ah, of course. The man… Fou-lu, was it?

She scowled. Had he run off during the night? And here she'd been hoping to make use of him… She sighed and threw off her blankets. Ungrateful little wretch.

As she was folding up her blankets, she heard a slight _swish_ as the shift that covered the hole that was currently functioning as a door was pushed aside.

Turning, she saw the youth standing in the door, looking reasonably fresher than the night before, and his arms full of various plants and tubers she didn't recognize.

"What's all that?" She asked bluntly, thrusting her chin in the direction of his finds.

"I hadst thought that I wouldst break our fast this morn'." He said, placing the pile near the cooking pot.

Wu-Zhao narrowed her eyes, "And just what's wrong with the breakfast I would make?"

He blinked, and looked up from where he had begun peeling one of the tubers. "This is merely my way of repaying thee. After this, I shalt be on mine way." He returned to his work.

Wu-Zhao was silent for a moment, content to simply glare with her hands on her hips. The youth continued, totally unperturbed by the woman's obvious ire.

"What are those things, anyways? How do you know their not poisonous?" She said, narrowing her eyes further.

The youth didn't even bother to look up as he dropped one into the pot, "I wast a hermit, before. I hast eaten many of these afore, and I assure thee, they are not poisonous."

She fumed slightly, irked by the youth's blithe response. "Fine, fine. I guess it _is_ only right you make breakfast. Call me when it's done." She said, breezing past the youth and heading out the door.

Fou-lu sighed – in relief? – as he stirred the pot. The woman was… unbearable. However, it was only right that he should aid her in return for her aid… but he had no time to waste here. Surely, after he had broken his fast, he would be on his way.

He nodded to himself, strengthening his resolve. Surely.

* * *

Wu-Zhao tugged on the rope, growling in her throat. Figured the well had to get stuck AGAIN. 

"You alright over there, Wu-Zhao?" She heard someone call.

"I'm fine!" She snarled back. Digging her heels in, she heaved with all her weight on the rope; however the stubborn thing refused to budge.

She tossed down the rope angrily, stomping her foot and glaring at the thing, _daring_ it to continue opposing her.

However, seeing as how the bucket wasn't coming up of its _own_ accord, her huff obviously had no affect.

She sighed, running a hand through her course hair and closing her eyes. This was the start to a terrible day, she could just _smell_ it.

Opening her eyes, she prepared to have another go at the well, only to see Fou-lu, drawing up the bucket and making it look so _goddamn easy._

She blinked in surprise, staring at the youth for a moment. Recovering, she glanced around, and saw that many of the people in the village were doing much the same.

Fou-lu took no notice, however, instead opting to grab the bucket, now full of water, and turning to Wu-Zhao, staring expectantly.

"Ah… thanks." She said, glancing around the village again.

"I couldst not find thee, thus I sought thee out. The morning meal is ready." He said, turning on his heel and heading back in the direction of the hut.

"Ah! Wait up! Fou!" She said, chasing after the man.

Fou-lu paused for her, raising his eyebrow at the nickname, "I wouldst prefer Fou-lu."

"Oh come now, darling! What's a little pet name between us?" She said, flashing a smile – both outwardly and inwardly, though that latter was towards the blatant looks of jealousy plastered across the other women's faces.

Fou-lu grimaced. Master had been right – women _were_ crazy.

They continued on their way – even after they left the village, Wu-Zhao had continued to hang on to his arm, something that surprised Fou-lu – and eventually got back to the hut.

Eating breakfast – Wu-Zhao couldn't help but stop and think that it actually didn't taste bad – she continued to ramble on about pointless things, occasionally gushing on Fou-lu's cooking or some equally useless thing.

Fou-lu placed his dishes to the side, and stood, heading for the door.

"Ah, Wait! Fou, where are you going?" Wu-Zhao asked, putting her best 'innocently worried' face on.

"I am leaving." Fou-lu said, ice rimming his words.

"But why?" Wu-Zhao asked.

Fou-lu sighed, turning to face the woman. "Thou be'est a fool." He said bluntly.

She blinked.

"Thou thinkest to manipulate me to further thine own goals." He drew himself up, towering over the woman. Wu-Zhao shied back slightly, some inherent fear stirring in the back of her mind. "I, however, have no time to humour thee." He turned back to the doorway, "I thank thee for thine aid, nevertheless I must be on mine way."

"You can't leave!" She protested feebly, "You owe me!"

"I _owe_ you?" Fou-lu said, his voice rising slightly, "You insignificant dreck! Thou didst nothing but aid me for thine own purposes! That is nothing worthy of _reward._" He lowered his voice to a hiss.

"But, I still helped you, didn't I?" She asked, trembling slightly. This was _much_ more than she had signed up for.

"Thou didst." Fou-lu nodded, "However, I hath paid mine debts unto you. I shalt trouble thee no more." He added, the manners ingrained into him coming to the surface.

He left, and Wu-Zhao sat there for awhile longer, wondering what on earth had come over her, to make her so readily subservient to a stranger – a man, no less.

Fou-lu walked crisply out of the hut, heading in no general direction, but only wishing to get _away_ from that horribly manipulative woman. The air vibrated slightly with his anger, and he took a deep, calming breath.

The master was right. Humans were horrible creatures. They did nothing but wallow in their own wicked ways, serving only themselves. But surely there were good ones, as well as the bad? Like the master. All Fou-lu needed to do was find them, and with their aid, he would end the war, and destroy those evil ones who had started it.

-----------------  
End Chapter 3  
-----------------

Fou-lu's Word of the Day: Dreck. X3

-insert obligatory apology on language-

Closing Notes: Nnnggghhh. I didn't like that chapter. Despite the fact that I wanted to portray Wu-Zhao as a manipulative bitch, I still found her character horrible inconsistent. But she's necessary. –sighs- Ah, well. Fou-Lu's anger, too… I feel like it was kind of… random… but not really, even. His entire life just fell apart, and here he is meeting this random woman who seeks only to make the villagers jealous. And as I said in the first chapter, he's really good at reading people. And Wu-Zhao's no Mami. Did it seem too random, still?

Sorry about the delay. I normally do my writing after the internet gets turned off (yes, my mother turns off the internet) however my social teacher assigns homework EVERY DAY, so it's kinda taken the slot of my writing. Plus it's my Grade 12 year, so I have lots of stuff that needs doing.

Oh! And one last thing. Anyone who can name the reference of Wu-Zhao's name gets a cameo! X3


	5. Chapter 5

Opening Notes: Eheheheheh... (hides)

* * *

Chapter 4

* * *

Fou-lu shifted his weight nervously. What an… odd little village. It was so… busy. He blinked owlishly as a woman and child passed by him, chatting amiably with a traveling merchant.

"_Despite everything, young one, I want thee to remember but one thing."_

"_What's that, master?" He blinked slowly at the elder._

"_Everything I've told thee is true. Man ist a horrible creature, consumed by greed, lust, anger, and any other variety of horrible things that thou cans't think of. However, man is not all bad."_

"_But master!"_

_The elder held up his hand, effectively silencing the youth._

"_The problem, young one, is that those foul and treacherous ones art the ones that would do anything to gain power, and thus are the ones that gain it. Those that are kind and giving become… rotated to the bottom. Dost thou understand?"_

_The youth nodded slowly, his brows furrowed. "I think I do, Master."_

"_Good. I want thee to remember that." He said, patting the youths head slightly, "For it is those who hath been placed to the bottom that are the ones that shall aid thee."_

Fou-lu walked down the path towards the village, his eyes wide, taking in all around him. '_Is this one of those, Master?'_

After his encounter with Wu-Zhao – his mouth twisted at the memory, for even now, the woman left a bad taste in his mouth – he'd begun to think that perhaps humans weren't _worth_ the effort. Truly, if all humans were as they, wouldn't they _long_ for war? For violence?

However, seeing this village, this _peace_, Fou-lu felt a small smile spread across his face. _These_ were the people worth saving.

His stomach rumbled in agreement.

Blinking, he frowned slightly. He had no coin – he was going to have to work for his food, but…

His stomach rumbled again.

Fou-lu sighed. Obviously he was overruled. Still, he did not savour the thought of having to…_expose_ himself to these people. Just because he thought they were better than those he had already met did not mean that he was ready to do anything more than observe them.

Finding the local tavern, he paused, taking in the place. It seemed quaint enough, with a worn-out sign in front, broadcasting its wares, and a gentle murmur of people could be heard when the door was opened.

Seemed as good a place as any.

Bracing himself, Fou-Lu opened the door, pausing again as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

It was a warm, homely place, with a slightly overweight man standing at the bar, laughing at some unheard joke – something he seemed to do often, if the gentle lines around his eyes were anything to judge by. The customers laughed along side him, numerous mugs of alcohol clasped in their work-worn hands.

He made his way towards the bar, dodging tables and people as he went, before reaching the man behind the bar, who, in turn, turned to stare curiously at the strange youth who had made his way into the man's bar.

"And what can I do for ya', son?" He asked brightly.

Thrown off slightly by the unfamiliar accent, Fou-lu hesitated, before steeling himself and bowing slightly to the man – who raised an eyebrow in confusion at the gesture, but said nothing.

"Sir, if thou wouldst – I am in need of work, and if I couldst work for thee in exchange for food, t'would be greatly appreciated." He said eloquently.

The bartender blinked, taken aback by the boy's strange way of speaking. Glancing around, he saw that the customers that were in the bar at the time were also staring curiously at the boy, and slowly shifting their glances expectantly to the bartender.

The bartender coughed, and shifted uncomfortably, placing the mug he had been wiping onto the counter.

"Well, I see no reason why not. We could use a bit of extra help, anyways." He said, offering a wide smile to the boy.

Fou-lu blinking in surprise – something he seemed to be doing more and more often lately – and relaxed slightly. He _had_ been half-expecting the man to turn him down in the brutish way of humans, as he'd grown accustomed to. But perhaps he'd been wrong…?

"…Your name, son?" The bartender prompted, jolting the youth out of his thoughts.

"Ah. T'is Fou-lu, good sir." He said, recovering himself.

"Fou-lu, huh…" The bartender said, smacking his lips as though tasting the name, "S'not a bad name. Strange, but not bad." He picked up the mug from where he'd placed it on the counter, beginning to wipe it again. Fou-lu wondered idly if he'd eventually wear it through.

"You can start by doing the dishes, I guess. The real rush don't start 'til later tonight." He motioned to the door behind him, which Fou-lu assumed led to the kitchen.

"I thank thee." He said with another bow, before heading through the door himself.

The bartender stared at the door as it closed for a few moments, his hand still working the rag on the mug, before he gave a small huff.

"Weird kid."

* * *

Fou-Lu felt a small smile begin to spread across his face- something he seemed to be doing on nearly a daily basis, now. It had been a long time since he had felt such contentment.

It had been some two, three months since he began working at the tavern – longer than he'd expected, but not long enough to cause him worry.

His eyes slid slowly over the tavern as his hand worked subconsciously on the mug he carried in one hand with the rag in the other. It seemed quiet tonight, which was good – the bar-master had taken the night off, which was the main reason Fou-Lu was behind the bar this night.

His eyes paused, and finally came to rest on the waitress of the tavern, Yuan. She was a petite little thing, with hair the color of dark chocolate thrown back into a bun with a sturdy clip to hold it in place. She was pale as well, her dark hair and eyes only accenting the fact.

Feeling his eyes on her, she glanced up from her work, offering a smile to Fou-Lu.

Starting – perhaps surprised at being caught – Fou-Lu fought down a flush, and offered a small smile in return.

She turned back to the patron, saying something Fou-Lu couldn't hear, though he could just as easily tell it was some sort of 'enjoy your meal, good sir' comment. He turned back to his own work, placing the now-wiped-clean mug on a pile with the others. Picking up another, he –

"Fou!" He heard Yuan chirp.

Glancing up, he saw that Yuan had mad her way over to the bar, and was now directly in front of him, only the bar between them. Curious that he'd not noticed her approach. He blinked at her.

"What do you say we close up early tonight? Surely you can see it's not going to pick up." She gestured in the direction of the few patrons.

Fou-Lu 'hmm'ed a moment, pretending to put some thought into the idea, despite the fact that he'd already decided to close up early some time ago.

"Very well. Thou speak'est the truth, saying that. Another hour, no less." He glanced up through his eyelashes, watching as her smile widened and a girlish squeal escaped as she clapped her hands in delight.

"Thank you Fou!" She sang, leaning over the bar and pecking him on the cheek. She skipped back in the direction of the patrons, oblivious to Fou-Lu's discomfort at being unable to stop the flush that flooded his cheeks, something that was only made worse by the nearby patrons' snickering.

He very nearly attacked the mug in his hands.

* * *

"… Hey, Fou." Yuan prompted.

Fou-Lu looked up, making no response. She still persisted in calling him that – something he'd protested to in the beginning, however no longer.

"Why do you never call the Master 'Master'?" She asked. (1)

The two were returning to Yuan's home – Fou-Lu had, as always, insisted on walking the waitress home.

"There ist only one I shalt ever call 'Master'." He said simply.

"Oh, who's that?" She pressed.

"The man who raised me." He replied, avoiding her eyes somewhat.

"He must've been a great man…" Yuan breathed, "Where's he now?"

"Dead."

"Oh! I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Fou-Lu turned back to the flustered girl, smiling gently at her discomfort. "Thou shoulds't not stutter so, t'is unbecoming."

She huffed angrily at him.

"T'was a long time ago, and nothing to do with thee. Thou shoulds't not worry overmuch. And, hark! We hads't reached thine home."

"Oh!" She exclaimed softly, "So we have." She turned back to Fou-Lu, "Thank you as always for walking me home, Fou-Lu." She bowed gracefully at the waist.

"The pleasure t'was all mine." He replied easily, "Then, 'til the morrow." Turning on his heel, he started back down the street.

"Good Night!" She called after him, shutting the door after she saw him wave in response.

The walk back home was always acutely quiet, after the walk with Yuan's incessant chatter – not that he minded it, quite the contrary.

"Fou-Lu?" Prompted a voice.

Fou-Lu sighed, slowing his pace. It was about time that his stalker showed himself – he'd been following him for some time – but surely he could have chosen a more convenient time?

He smiled wryly at his thought. What time was more convenient time than the middle of the night in the middle of a deserted street?

"What dost thou desire from this one?" He demanded, turning to face his companion in the dark.

"Fou-Lu." The stranger repeated, stepping out of the alleyway he had taken refuge in.

Fou-Lu blinked, slowly. It was one of the regulars from the tavern, though the man's name escaped him. Why was he following Fou-Lu?

"Fou-Lu." The man repeated once more, "We need your strength." His face was sombre.

Fou-Lu simply blinked in response.

"What dost thou desire mine strength for?" He asked after a moment.

"To take down the tyrant of this land!"

Fou-Lu frowned for a moment. It was well known that the man who was currently ruling this area was a well-despised man, who enforced his rule by any variety of kidnappings, public hangings, and any other despicable way he could find. However, it was also well-known that the man had a huge army at his disposal, and any who tried to take him down failed miserably and normally ended up having their entrails hanging on the walls of his palace.

"How dost thou intend to go about this?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"With the rest of the insurgence!" The man said, "We have a plan, Fou-Lu, and a good one! It'll work, but we could do with your help."

Fou-Lu pressed his lips together, thinking. Could this be the chance to finally begin his conquest…? If what the man said was true, this was indeed a golden opportunity. Something that may not come up again.

"What do you say, Fou-Lu? Will you join us?"

Hair the color of dark chocolate and a warm smile flashed through his mind for a moment.

"…no."

------------------  
End Chapter 4  
------------------

(1) I'm just going off anime here, but they always seem to call the bar-tender-owner person 'Master'.

Closing Notes: Sorry it took so long. At first it was writer's block, and then it was laziness.

Sorry about the language – I think it was particularly bad this chapter. I should read some Shakespeare, get back into practice…

But I kinda like this chapter. I think it helps show that Fou's but a mortal man… even if he's not. XD He's got a comfortable life, and doesn't quite want to give it up... I'll build it up more next chapter, but I wanted to end this here.

And as for the cameo-question last chapter, answering in reviews is fine. :3


End file.

Breath of Fire