Post by Yumei on Dec 12, 2007 9:08:59 GMT -5
IMPULSE IN INDIGO
--Grimoire I - repentance of a [you]winner[/you]
[/color][/font]--Grimoire I - repentance of a [you]winner[/you]
______so it begins.______
蓬莱：ザ・金杯 - 冥歌伝：愛を見つけて
CHAPTER 1: chartreuse conspiracy~prelude[/center]
It was probably one of the most risky nights he had ever lived in his life. Possibly. Probably. Most likely. He was betting his life, at least, in a metaphoric sense, all in a game of throwing tiles. A game of throwing [you]tiles[/you]. What could possibly make any more sense?
This young boy, Meika, at the tender age of 14, was already engaging himself in such a simple, yet such a complex game. Of not only luck, but of also skill, and ultimately, deception. The one thing a child such as him would lack, the ability to deceive those with masterful throwing of tiles. Manipulation. Induction of fear. Such is the way of the Mahjong player. Meika was against the parents of a "gang" from his school. This "gang" was actually an underground crime syndicate entourage under training from their parents. Meika would bet his body for free usage if he had lost, if he won, he was to gain half of the entire syndicate's savings/treasury/whatever you would call it. How exactly did such an unlikely, untimely battle occur? A battle where each places their own demise? ...It was very simple. It was just a threat. A simple threat. And this threat landed Meika in the most unlikely situation. However, he was to forget all of that. He had a game to win. Luckily, he is not a newcomer to this trade. He poured the past 3 years into this, starting when he was 11, on a whim. He then spiralled down the path to addiction.
Meika's battle for survival had already started some time ago, around half an hour ago. However, it had only been dead ends. No one had won yet, so the dealer still remained to be... One of Meika's opponents. Meika had brought along a small, portable water-bottle in case he needed to drink - he knew they were going to drug him, so Meika saved this water-bottle - a simple, golden-tinted plastic water-bottle. No print whatsoever. Simple, but no one would know that it would grant him demonic luck... As if he didn't have unholy luck in the first place. This match landed him with the most unlikely hand possible - a straight-off single wait on one of the dragon tiles. If he was to win, he would have massive earnings - straight 600/1200 worth of chips to him. Meika did not smile, nor did he look particularly happy about it, but it was a good start. The game the proceeded on rather normally, with people calling on pongs, kans, the like. However, the crucial tile was thrown. It was a dragon tile. The one Meika needed for the win... It was already nearly a dead end, so Meika declared the win. Everyone was astonished.
"...How could a damn kid win with a hand like that?!" one of his opponents said indignantly. He was shaking his fist in rage. Meika remained unfazed. He did not laugh, did not smile, did not even blink. He awaited silently, whether he was going to win, or face his demise. Nothing would scar his face, nor his body. He would leave unscathed. He was prepared to leave if he lost. The guy who had given Meika his winning tile grinned. "Look here, girly boy, you just got lucky. Let's see you maintain your cool when you lose!" Meika simply fixed his long, jet-black hair - it had become messy. He turtled himself inwards, trying to look intimidated. "That's it, do you feel it, boy?! Do you feel that... that insidious chill down your spine!?" Meika did not move an inch, remaining in his turtled position. Everyone else present laughed.
The next few rounds began. Meika did not win any of the rounds, often receiving nasty comments about his rather androgynous disposition or his silent, shy, fearful demeanor. But this was a facade. This was just a fake deception. Now Meika was going to strike. It was the third round of the West side. It was past the half-way mark, and it was past midnight. Meika wondered if his family cared about him, playing a game where he bet his life into it. Yet, he forgot about that. He was going to win, and when he won, his parents would surely forget about it. Meika's hand looked awful, though. Full of useless tiles. However, a ray of hope shined when it dawned upon him that none of the flowers could no longer be picked - all the flowers were taken by the opposition. Meika smiled. He could pull of a hand similar to a kokushi musou, and cause a massive upset. And it was already starting to get there. Most of his hand consisted of winds, dragons and terminals. He constantly called on melds in order to formulate his winning hand, and eventually, on the tenth turn, the deciding moment had come along. Meika was on a single hell-wait on a 9-dong. Two turns had passed. No one won. Meika took the tile from the wall nonchalantly, as if expecting a win. And as he had expected, he won. Zi mo.
Everyone apart from Meika became exasperated. They looked through his hand over and over again to pick out loopholes. It was surely there. Meika had won even more points and taken more of them from his adversaries. Meika began to overcome the odds. The next game, he caused another upset. And then another. He had constantly gotten diao zheng when he became the dealer in the 2nd round of the North side, where 2 rounds remained. It was the 9th one where his streak was broken. Although he lost the penultimate round, he received an ankan in his initial hand, thus earning a total of 1200 points and beyond for that round.
The deciding round of the match was about to begin. The shuffle was done, and the game began. Meika's hand was good. He could afford to make melds of many of the words, and pull off the last massive upset. However, to his surprise, he noticed the player opposite him smile. This player tossed aside a bei. Meika called. The next player tossed a sei. Meika called. The third player tossed a nam. Meika called. Everyone suddenly became scared. Except one. He tossed a dong. Meika called. Now it was dead... Surely. Or so Meika thought. Meika tossed one of his tiles... That player opposite him called a kan. When Meika tossed yet another, the same player called another kan! When it was that very same player's turn, he got an ankan! Meika was at odds with this player. Several turns had passed with no victor. It was going to be a dead end... Meika was on a single hell-wait on a 1-sou, but the player opposite him was on a double pong-wait on either 2-sou or 5-sou. It was Meika's turn to draw. It was the third-last tile.
It was either do or die...
Meika took the tile, his hands trembling ever so slightly, as if trying to extend his grip to the goddess of luck herself... To seal a deal with the demon.
