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Threshold: Chapter Four
Once you’re dead, there isn’t a lot to do. You can sometimes interact with objects and communicate to people through their dreams. But what’s the point of talking to them if you’re dead and only come alive once a year?
Did I mention that? If you’re one of the rare people that happens to get stuck on the threshold, you can come alive on the day of your birth and death. Since the only way to become someone who missed the train to the afterlife is to die on your birthday, it’s the same day.
Anywho. Back to my main story. What happened to me and a boy.
I don’t know if this is true of all spirits stuck on the planet, but I know it’s true for me. I can sense when people are going to become threshold children – that’s my personal term for what I am. Since, like I mentioned earlier, I don’t see any others, it’s pretty hard to know for sure what the best terminology is…
Who cares, anyway? We’re all dead.
Anyway, I was minding my own business and wandering around my hometown when the first signal came to me. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like a little light goes off inside your mind, somewhat of a compass that gets brighter as you head in the right direction. I was just about to check on my favorite ice cream store when the first sign of the light hit me. Since I was facing south, I followed it to that direction.
I’ll say right now that, usually, my signals are within a couple hundred miles. Which is pretty good, considering all the people that lie within that radius. This one, however, was much further. Five hundred miles. Well, technically, it was five hundred and thirty three, but you get the picture. Two hundred and fifty percent larger than my usual radius.
It took me a few weeks to follow the source and to see who was on the threshold. This light isn’t like a plain compass where you can see where you’re suppose to be going. Rather, it only tells you where to go if you happen to be going in the right direction. It took me forever – probably a few weeks for the living – to manage to get into the same town as the victim.
Usually, once I’m in within fifty miles, I’ll get something like a vision. Something that tells me who I need to look for. Sometimes I get the name of a team or a club that they’re members in – I once had a vision that led me to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting – and I have to track that down using the dreams of sleeping people. All I can say about dream-jumping is that I’m glad there are suckers who work at night and sleep during the day. Makes my “job” much easier.
Once I was within the fifty mile radius, I got a really clear vision. I mean, I have never – no exaggeration here – gotten a vision with the person’s actual form in there. But, this time, I did. I got the image of a six-foot-something guy who was turning eighteen in a few weeks. Fate had already played out his roles and he was going to die right on the threshold time if there wasn’t any outside interference.
By the way, fate happens to know what’s going to happen to you years in advance. And the only things that can be considered interference and make fate’s ruling void is someone who isn’t quite dead. Like, let’s say… me.
Anyway, back to the boy that I had seen. Six feet tall (give or take, although I’m tempted to give more than take). Dark green eyes (I thought they were black when I first saw them) and black hair. Quite attractive, by my standards.
Too bad I was dead. Having no body typically makes it hard for you to be a part of the dating community. Except, of course, for that one time every year. Those twenty-four hours of your birthday that let you take on a solid form and be alive for a brief point in time.
Maybe the vision of him took a while to get to me because of the detail in it (I even saw the scar on his lower lip in my vision). But he was close. By close, I mean anywhere up to ten miles away from me. He couldn’t have been much further than that, considering how bright the light-compass was.
I dug around in the heads of the sleeping for the rest of the day, hoping (in vain) that one of them would know who I was looking for. But there was no chance of that. The only people sleeping were a couple of people who worked nights and never saw the world in the day and a couple of little kids who didn’t have any big brothers fitting the description I was looking for.
I got to wander around until night fell. When the old and young began to fall asleep, I rooted around in their memories for something. But nothing came up. No one knew the guy I had been given such a clear vision of. About nine or ten at night was when the rest of the world seemed to turn in for the day. That was when I did some really heavy-duty digging.
I was only on my ninetieth person (that’s not a lot if you think of how many people there are in a twenty-mile diameter) when I found him. Ironically enough, I was looking through the boy’s father when I managed to find him. I pulled out of the mind as gently as I could – too quick will cause various levels of brain damage or bleeding – and searched the house for the mystery boy.
I found him behind a door with his name on it. Dante. Quite an old-fashioned name, but nice nonetheless. No last name was on the door, but I didn’t care. I had found fate’s victim and things didn’t matter after that.
It took a little manipulation – it’s always hard to push into the minds of someone about to become an adult. They think too much for a kid (which is what the universe classifies them as) and they don’t have a simple mind like the adults. But, with a little work and effort, I managed to slip into Dante’s dreams.
He was having a dream about someone (a girl, to be specific). He was arguing with her, fighting over something that didn’t make sense – I haven’t come across a dream that does make sense with all my dream-hopping – when I decided to make myself known. I gently slid into the center picture and waved my hand. Just like that, his dream was gone, and the body I had once owned was standing before him.
“Who are you?”
I hated this question. No matter how many souls I saved from being trapped like me, and no matter how many dreams I pried into, I never got used to this question. It was always like getting transferred to a new school in the middle of the year: they want to know everything about you, and you don’t have the foggiest clue of where to start.
“My name is Claire. I’m here to help you, Dante.”
I have found that using their name makes them feel like they’re actually being addressed. Like they should pay attention. If you don’t say their name, people will typically wake up and think that they must have taken a little too much Nyquil before bed. Say their name, and they might start going to church to figure out what the hell is going on.
“Help me with what? With my ex?”
Ah. So that’s who the other girl was. I wondered if they had really argued over deserved the last hamburger during lunch time in their school. But first meetings were always tough. I wasn’t going to blow this one by asking him something mundane.
“I don’t care about your ex, and neither should you. I need you to pay close attention to me when I come to you. Can you do that, Dante?”
“Yeah, I guess. But why?”
The second most common question: why.
“You’re going to die on your eighteenth birthday unless you follow my advice.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
I’d never come across that one before. Usually people just assumed it was their subconscious speaking to them and figured that they could trust themselves. Either this kid was really smart, or really stupid. I silently wished it was the former.
“You don’t. All I can tell you is that I gain nothing whether or not you live to your nineteenth birthday. But I’m here to help you anyways. I’d tell you that you can trust me, but you won’t believe me…. How about, until you know for sure, I’ll come to see you every night.”
“This is my dream, right?”
Duh.
“Yes.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be able to bend to my will?”
“Supposed to, being the operative term. I refuse to take part in your wet dreams.”
He shook his head.
“That’s not what I was going to ask for. I play football, and I always wanted to see a girl to play football… Would you play football with me in my dream?”
Not only was it the first request I had ever received, but it was a strange one. I nodded my head once apprehensively. Dreams couldn’t hurt him since he had a physical body, but they could hurt me. Nonentities can hurt each other just as entities can hurt each other.
So, grudgingly, I brought myself into his fantasy world and began to play football.
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Threshold: Chapter Three
To put it bluntly, I was murdered.
And I know you must be wondering who would want to murder an eighteen-year-old girl on her birthday. Well, it wasn’t an intentional murder. Well, not that I’m aware of. I don’t even think that it was planned until he realized the ramifications of what he had done and what kind of s**t I put him through.
My mother and my step-dad live in a small area of Redding (which is just a few hours south of the Oregon border). Our neighbor was always known to be violent. It wasn’t uncommon for us to hear him yelling at his wife or kids for what seemed like the most mundane of things. His temper had to be common knowledge to the entire neighborhood, with how loud he yelled.
Anyways, I had just gotten home from school – woo for birthdays that land on bloody Monday – and I was walking to my room to put my backpack away. When I opened the door and the cat started greeting me, I heard someone knock on the door. Great. Another missionary. I spent a few moments remembering what happened the last time a missionary came to our door and how much of a sucker I was. I can’t say no to anyone for the life of me…
I went back over to the door and opened it without a second thought. To this day – whatever day it is – I still regret not thinking to be more safety-conscious.
It was Guy, our neighbor. I’m not sure if that’s his actual name, but that’s what my step-dad and mom always called him. Guy.
He overpowered me. I tried to knock him out of the way when I saw that he was coming in – without permission, no less – but he was six feet tall. I barely exceeded five feet. Hell, I wasn’t even taller than my mom (or so she claims, I still think I had to have been an inch taller than her 5’2). I backed up – too scared to actually turn around and flee.
But the coffee table was right behind me. The back of my knees encountered the coffee table and down I went. My legs buckled underneath me – without my permission, I might add – and the rest of my body soon followed suit. I was still trying to figure out how to get out of the house until my head hit the edge of the coffee table that my knees had already run into.
My brain went fuzzy after that. I knew what was happening to me, but I couldn’t really do anything about it. I couldn’t even think clearly enough to cry or scream. I was forced to just lay there as my body was abused and violated in the worst way possible. Towards the end, I remember seeing the light in his eyes, the light that told me he just discovered what kind of trouble he could get in.
So he did the only thing that would keep me quiet. He closed his hands around my neck and squeezed.
I think I died before my body started screaming for oxygen. I don’t remember the attempts to breathe. I just remember being there with the vague notion that I was going to die, and then I was gone.
I don’t know about what the rest of normal dead people go through, but I never saw a white light. I did however, see my life flash before my eyes. All the amazing times I had, all the people I loved, all the people I would miss. And, in that brief moment when I knew that I was going to die, I wanted to weep.
But I was too slow. My soul cried, but my body could not. I had no body any longer.
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Threshold: Chapter Two
I grew up in a fairly happy home. My mother and father remained married for almost twenty years before their marriage fell apart. I’m not quite sure what caused it, and I may never know. All that I know is that one day, my father was gone and my mother told me and my elder sisters that he wasn’t coming back for us. I remember crying as she told us that he didn’t love us anymore.
My dad moved to another state. Alaska. He married a witch from the depths of hell and divorced her less than a year later. Good riddance, I had thought. I didn’t care for the woman at all, and her verbally abusive nature only furthered my opinion that my dad was too good for her. She didn’t deserve him.
But nothing about my life seems important now. When you die, all that matters is how you died and why you died. Any period of time before that just seems to become irrelevant. And it was in this position that I find myself in. Try as I might, I can’t summon enough desire to talk about the life I had. Granted, I remember it with a certain fondness – I miss being a human – but I don’t care for it if it’s not a bittersweet memory.
I had two older sisters. They’re still alive to this day, but it’s been a while since I’ve looked in on them. After a while, it becomes painful to be among the living without living yourself. Most of the time, I find myself isolated and just waiting for a vision to come. Something to tell me that there is someone who will need my help.
But I’m not there yet. You’ll learn about my post-life after I’ve told you about my favorite moments of the life I lived. My real life.
I used to go camping frequently. My mother often too me to Sequoia, while my father preferred Yosemite. I hiked up to Half Dome (in Yosemite) twice. On my first time up there, I ended up waiting for my father to come back down. My asthma wasn’t agreeing with the thinner air. I was alone for maybe ten minutes when a girl came down and began to talk to me.
Even with the clarity that the afterlife has given me, I struggle to remember her name. Heather seems to suit her, though. Heather informed me that she was from a city that was, literally, named Paradise. But there was nothing special about it, it just had a strange name. I talked with her for almost an entire hour. Through this hour, I learned several strange things about her.
First of all, she hadn’t worn shoes for the hike. Her feet were pretty cut up, but she didn’t seem to mind. When I asked her about the lack of footwear, she told me that bare feet were better for gripping things than covered feet were. She figured that the pain of her bare feet would be outweighed by the benefits when she got up to scaling the mountain.
I also learned that she didn’t know where her campsite was. She didn’t know at all. And the rest of her group had gone on ahead. When I was told this – towards the end of the hour – I urged her to catch up to the people that she had come with. With that, Heather was gone from my world… Forever.
Another fond memory I have is of my father and I sitting on the balcony of a condo he just bought. We were talking heart-to-heart and I remember how full of love I felt for him. How much I cared for him and what he meant to me.
I remember my dad taking pictures of a bear until the bear lunged at him.
I remember hosting a murder mystery at my sixteenth birthday.
And my trip abroad, to Germany.
These are all my favorite memories. The ones that I cling to when the loneliness becomes almost suffocating and I can’t stand it anymore. These are the memories that I won’t let go of.
I suppose you’d like to know about my death now.
Very well. Might as well get this over with now.
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Threshold: Chapter One
I had never been a particularly happy person. But I never wanted to die. To the contrary, I wanted to live. I guess I never realized how much I wanted to live until it was too late.
My name is Claire Adams, and I’ve been dead for over a decade.
I died in the year of 1998, on my eighteenth birthday. Ironic, isn’t it? The anniversary of the day I came into the world was the day I left it. Forever.
You know, no one ever gives death a second thought until they’re confronted with it. Usually, they don’t even have to face it themselves, but they only need to know someone who has faced it. That’s why the family and friends of a recently-dead person will be so aware of how short their life really is.
It’s not something typically known to the world of the living, but there are two heavens. One for children, and the other for adults. And, at some specific number of hours, minutes, and seconds, the heaven you are destined to go to upon your death will change. It’s always on your eighteenth birthday. The only variability is the time of day. I was born February 10th at 12:03 PM. I died February 10th, 12:09 AM.
I’m not quite sure what chooses the precise time of heaven-change, but I know that there is one. If you die before that specified date, you go to a heaven where your mind will always be that of a child. You’ll never think to enjoy more adult pleasures. Just the simple, childish ones you’re familiar with. After the heaven-change time, you’ll go to the heaven for adults, where things can get a little more risqué, if you catch my drift.
Me… Well, from what I can understand, I died right on the threshold between heavens. Barely too old to be a child, but barely too young to be an adult. The universe doesn’t know where I go. So, I’ve spent the past eleven years wandering around the United States – specifically, California – trying to keep other people out of the hell that I have found myself in.
Even though my body died, my spirit lived on. I know it sounds cliché, but it’s the truth. As a result of a body-less spirit in the world, I can take form in dreams. Every now and again, I can muster enough energy to become a physical entity, but these times are rare. I’ve had one on every birthday so far. For the entire twenty-four hours, I can be human. But when the minute hand moves another stroke, my world falls apart just as Cindrella’s did.
I’m getting used to it. It’s very lonely, being as I’m the only being like me on the continent with this problem. I think there are one or two others in the world, but that’s it.
Before you ask, the answer is this: we can sense each other. Should I wish it, I could follow their energies to track them down and we could all have fun… But I prefer to spend my time doing more constructive things.
These “constructive things” will be explained to you later on.
Anywho. If you think about the statistics, the chances of this kind of death happening are astronomical. First of all, you have to land on the day of your birth. But that’s not close enough, then you have to land on the right hour, minute, second, even millisecond. Fate has to be pushing against you if you end up like I am. A spirit wandering the earth in vain hope that somewhere, a body will be born without a spirit.
We call those stillborns, by the way. SIDS has a great explanation in the spirit world: young spirits sometimes forget to stay in their human bodies. If a spirit leaves the body for more than a second or two, the body dies. The few seconds that the spirit is gone are known as “out of body experiences.”
And my life is chalk-full of them. Primarily because I don’t have a body to stick to anymore.
So, what is a person to do when they’re found stuck in the world without a body? There’s not a lot of things that can be done. I can’t interact with any solid objects. The only thing I can control is air, and that’s simply because air does not have mass, so there’s nothing to really interact with.
Here’s my story of my life and death… And then of the world that is so cruelly dangled before me as I wander around with no destination.
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Through the Perspective of a Mitszu: Chapter One
My first conscious memory was when I was five. I was starting training early, for my father had hit a slow point in Mitszus needing training. You see, Mitszus went through twelve seasons, each spanning to be about an Earth-year long. This is why we have such amazing longevity. Anyway, it was the fifth season, and breeding rates were low. There had been too little sunshine, so none of the Mitszus would mate until they could be sure that their offspring would grow up beneath the sun. Almost every Mitszu thinks this way. We depend on light to tell us when it is wise to give birth and when we should wait before reproducing.
My father had nothing to do, being that there were no Mitszus to train. So, he began to train me a year early. I eagerly jumped into it, learning everything I could about the weapons Reska's nature had given me and the weapons that I would soon learn to forge on my own.
I remember, very clearly, the first conversation my father and I had about the royal family. It had to come at some point. Everyone going through training had to understand why the Seguri clan was in rule and why they had always remained in rule. So, when my father began to speak about the Seguri clan while teaching me how to place a proper kick, I listened intently. This was not information easily discarded.
"Do you have any questions about the Seguri clan?" He had asked me. I aimed a kick at his chest and missed by a foot. I stumbled, but quickly regained my balance before my father could try to land a blow on me. My speed helped. I managed to block a hit from him just as I spoke.
"Why are they always in rule? Why hasn't another clan taken power?" My father backed off and prepared himself for another kick.
"There are three levels of strength. The Seguris are of the highest level of power. Their animal ears and tails show that they are in perfect harmony with their inner beast. You and I are in slight conflict with our Instinct. The lowest level of strength has almost no harmony with their inner self. That is why they are weak. The more united you become with your beast, the stronger you can become." I aimed another kick at his chest, this one managing to hit him. But he caught my foot and pushed me away. I stumbed around, but regained my footing quickly. I would not let my father defeat me today.
"Is that the reason why some Mitszus can rise above their level of power?" My father nodded. I aimed another kick at his chest, this one being caught as well. My father held my foot in his grasp, making the muscles in my thigh scream at how they were being stetched. I struggled away from his grasp, but he was too strong. With a large sigh, I looked at him.
"You're not asking the question that's on your mind." He told me. He released my foot, and I was quick to rub my thigh. The muscles were not prepared for that kind of a stretch and reminded me of that when I tried to put weight on my leg.
"It's a rude question. I heard a kid ask his mother. He got scolded for it." I explained. My father raised an eyebrow at me. I took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Why is Princess Seguri a mutant? What happened to her tail?"
My father's gaze darkened considerably. I took a step back, wincing when the extra weight on my leg reminded me that I was not supposed to be moving. My father closed the distance between us, looked around for eavesdroppers, then knelt down in front of me.
"She was born with no tail. Nobody knows why. But that does not mean she has a quarrel with her inner beast. They have found out that she can remember what she does when Instinct takes over." My father explained. My eyes widened.
"No way! No one ever remembers what happens when Instinct takes over!" I was in shock. Was she really that powerful that her and her beast were in perfect harmony?
"It is true. She can control her inner beast almost all of the time. When she does lose control, she still remembers what she has done. She is truly one with her demon." My father told me. I was still shocked at the idea of a Mitszu being able to remember what they did while in Instinct's thrall.
"I'll bet that those extra powers of hers make her extra vulnerable." I told my father in a whisper. He chuckled and lowered his head.
"You are too smart for your own good, Zainen. You know that I work for the royal family. And she does have a large weakness. I believe it comes from being so close with her demonic side." He explained. I continued to stare wide-eyed at my father as my mind comprehended all this information.
"What is it, father?" My dad glanced around once more, making sure that there was no one to witness the giving of this vital secret. I looked around too, as if my eyes would find anything that his could not. When neither of us saw nothing suspicious, he leaned towards my ear.
"She struggles to control her emotions. Instinct is very emotional, and because she is so close with hers, she cannot control her emotions like other Mitszus." He explained.
"Do you think she's a fourth level of Mitszu strength?" I asked. My father pondered this for a few moments before he could think of a proper response to that.
"She could very well be. But I am curious as to why she has less animalistic signs on her body, rather than more animalistic signs. She is missing a tail. According to the hierarchy, she should have animal ears, a tail, and something else... Like whiskers or an animal nose...."
"Then what's wrong with her?" I couldn't help but ask. For being five years old - that's sixty in human years - I was being uncommonly rude. But my curiosity was piqued. The strongest Mitszu ever being a mutant? What had happened to make her breeding turn out so badly? Or was the hierarchy backwards? Should we have less signs of the animal inside if we were truly in tune with our Instinct?
"Nobody knows. For now, they're saying that she is a typical Seguri. She suffered some kind of genetic disorder, and no tail formed." My father explained to me.
"Is that why her ears are different colors, too?" They were. Where one was white with a black tip, the other was black with a white tip. It had baffled everyone for the few seasons she had been alive. No one was any closer to figuring out what she was. Other than my father and I.<
"Could be." My father shrugged. Before too much silence could settle in between us, I kicked him square in the chest. He fell over backwards, the breath knocked out of him. When he leaned up, he was smiling.<
"Did I do good?" I was more than eager to please my father. It was what I strove for every day.
"You did well, son. Although I think I'll have to stop our training for today. You still have work to do from your Sarash." He told me. I deflated. Sarash - the equivalent of a human school, only different in slight ways - was great. But the work that was sent home was always hard. The leaders in Sarash assumed we'd all have a way to find out the answer, whether it was front our texts, our family, or our neighbors. So, in response, they made sure the work was hard enough that we'd still learn something. Even if we were going elsewhere for our answers.
Which I wasn't doing. I was determined to get the most out of Sarash, so I constantly challenged myself to do the work without the aid of anybody or anything.
My father and I walked home. It wasn't a long walk, and it went right through the forest. I loved the forest just outside of our home. Because of the twin suns that Reska rotates around, the temperatures during high noon - when both suns beat down on us simultaneously - was unbearable. It was like trying to peel your clothes off of you when they had become one with your skin. It was gross.
But the forest was amazing. The trees gave us plenty of cover from the sun. The temperature was nice, being that there was a nearby lake that always gave off a cool breeze, no matter what season it was or what time of day it happened to be. My father and I reached home fairly quickly. We walked into the house to find my mother, two sisters, and younger brother already there. The elder brother was usually gone. He was struggling with both his training and his Sarash, so he spent extra time trying to keep up with both. It wasn't uncommon for a Mitszu to struggle with keeping up. We had intense training take place while we had to keep up with Sarash. It wasn't, by any means, an easy task.
Especially if you chose the hard way to do your work from Sarash.
I went strait to my room and sat down at the table - I suppose it's now referred to as a desk - to do my work. I pulled out my first worksheet, and began. It was information about the Mitszu body. Most of this was common knowledge to any Mitszu. To one that was already sixty seasons old, it was simple questions with simple answers. Most of the time. It may have challenged someone who was only fifteen seasons old, but anatomy was not typically assigned to Mitszus as young as fifteen seasons.
I believe I mentioned this earlier, but it needs to be said once more. A season is the equivalent of one human year. And one Mitszu year is twelve human years. Most people tell age by seasons, being as there are many different maturity levels you undergo between years. If you're exactly sixty seasons, then it is shortened down to five years. But it is easier to go by seasons. Just because that gives a Mitszu the most information about another Mitszu without having to ask too many questions.
I will tell you of Mitszu anatomy, because there are major differences between Mitszus and humans. Mitszus have tough skin. It is very difficult to pierce, especially by anything other than a Mitszu's nail. Or magically-charged weapons. But that is information for another time. Our skin is very tough and does not change color in the sun. I mean to say that we do not tan or sunburn. If you are born a color, you will remain that color for the rest of your life. Unless you're stupid enough to get your skin dyed. Those that dye their skin usually choose outrageous colors and are... not easily accepted by the rest of the Mitszu society.
Mitszus also have stronger bones. Our bones are made of something called Girantium. It is not found on Earth - unless someone has taken it there without our knowledge - and it is extremely durable in both hot and cold conditions. It would have to be, considering that we rotate around two suns. High noon would boil a human alive here. And deep night would easily freeze over the entire planet of Earth without any sort of complication or problem.
Mitszus also have burgundy blood. There's a lot of speculation about why it is not red, like human blood, or silver, like tree blood. Oh yeah, trees have blood here. But it is burgundy when it is full of nutrients, and black when rotting because of a lack of nutrients. If you ever see a dying Mitszu, their skin looks a sort of gray color. That is the black blood in their veins beginning to show through their tough Mitszu skin. The sicker a Mitszu is, the more black they appear to be.
If a Mitszu lacks certain nutrients, their skin will tint different colors. A Girantium deficiency - remember, Girantium makes up the bones of our bodies - turns the skin a faint orange or yellow color. This makes being a health official, known as doctors in human terms, a very easy job. Whereas being a doctor for humans is a very profitable job, being a Reskan Health Official is considered one of the jobs a middle-class Mitszu might take.
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Through the Perspective of a Mitszu: Prologue
Where do I begin with something about my own life? Is there a specific starting point I’m supposed to use? Or is it just a recollection of poignant memories that, for one reason or another, happened to stick out most in my mind.
Well, I suppose stories start out with explanations. Here’s mine. I’m a Mitszu. I’m not even slightly human, except for the slightly human form that I take on. Mitszus are more like mythical creatures in human folklore. We’ve evolved differently than humans did and, as a result, have many more talents. For example, Mitszus all have claws in place of fingernails. These natural weapons can extend or retract at will. Much like what cats do on Earth. We also have sharpened abilities. Our hearing is more sensitive, we are faster, have better reflexes, and can see better than your average human. But our abilities don’t even come close to ending there. We can control magic. Water, fire, air, earth… And all their different forms. Mitszus also have different eye colors- colors that humans don’t naturally have- and strange hair colors. For example, the royal family of Reska has silver or black hair. Some of them are given both. Mitszus also have different ears. The stronger a Mitszu is, the more different their ears are in comparison to a human’s. Weak Mitszus will have human ears. Then elf-like ears are for the fairly strong ones. Only the elite- like the royal family of Reska- have ears that resemble those of an animal.
Reska is my home planet. It’s, obviously, far away from Earth. Our technology is far more advanced, but we are very conscious of how we take care of our planet. We’ve made guns before, but they don’t have much of an effect on Mitszus- humans are rather rare on Reska. So, guns and other weapons of great destruction were given up and we reverted back to using swords and bows and arrows. It’s easier on the environment that we are so worried for. But we also have spacecraft that can take us to other planets.
Which is how I ended up on Earth.
I can give you the summarized version of my story, if it helps any. Unfortunately, I tend to have problems talking about what I’ve been through. My sincerest apologies if this is far too short.
I grew up with my father, mother, two sisters and two brothers. Out of all of them, I was the second oldest. I wasn’t burdened with the same about of responsibility that my elder sister was, but I had enough of it to do what I wanted without having to worry about getting in trouble. My father, a strong Mitszu, was a trainer. He took untrained Mitszus at the age of six and would train them. By the time they reached adulthood, which is the age of seventeen, they’d be fully trained and ready to forge their own custom weapon. My mother, not one to be a flimsy Mitszu-mom who stayed at home, worked in the furnaces. She’d spend day in and day out in the burning hot furnaces and help fully-trained Mitszus forge their own weapons.
It’s a tradition for Mitszus to follow in their parents’ footsteps. It’s not forced, but no one really wishes to break against tradition. So, I was an apprentice to become a trainer, like my father, and my brother was almost of the age to do this. My sisters were to work in the furnaces and were both of the age to begin their apprenticeship. My youngest brother had yet to finish his own training.
I remember so clearly the beginning of the civil war. It’ll forever remain in my mind.
Reska was controlled by one royal family. The Seguris. The Seguri clan was composed only of fair rulers and honorable relatives. It was unheard of for problems to arise when a Seguri had a hand in it.
But I digress. This is my attempt to tell you all about my life. Not about how the Seguri clan ruled Reska.
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Through the Experience of a Mitszu: Prologue
My life is complicated. It always has been, and it always will be. The things that define my life are, in themselves, delicate and intricate. There's no one person or one event that truly shaped my life. Rather, it was more like a deity threw together several random events and some strange people and then, voila, Sherima Seguri was born.
I suppose I shall start with the basics. I am not human, as you are. I am a Mitszu. Mitszus hail from Reska, a planet entirely different from Earth. But I'll go into the logistics of my home planet at a later time. You have no idea what a Mitszu is, and I intend to thoroughly educate you.
A Mitszu is an enhanced human. Think of any human sense - scent, taste, hearing, touch, and sight - they're all enhanced. Mitszus are stronger in every way compared to humans. But we all have a weakness. Depending on the strength of the Mitszu, their weakness can be ice, fire, or tree life (like leaves and flowers). My personal weakness is none of the traditional three. My weakness is water.
Our weaknesses will turn us into mortals until the issue has passed. For me, if one drop of water touches me, I undergo a painful transformation into my mortal self and will remain mortal until the water dries. Then I will undergo another painful transformation into my Mitszu self. Those that are unable to deal with the other elements are allergic to touching it and smelling it.
Mitszus can also control magic. Depending on our strength bracket, we can control just one of the four basic elements, or we can control multiple elements. For example, the weakest Mitszus can only control water, fire, earth, or air. Strong Mitszus, like me, can control all the elements and can master them so much that we can bring things into being or out of being.
There are three classes of strength for Mitszus. There are the weak - the lowest in our social order. They look entirely human and can only control one of the four elements. Then there are the strong. They have pointed ears and can control two to three of the elements. Mitzus that are of the top strength level are known as Noble Mitszus. This is because all off them are of noble heritage. They can control all four elements and have animal-like traits. This means that we have no ears on the side of our head, but rather animal ears atop our head. It also means that we have tails.
Then there's my class. I'm sort of a freak, as far at Mitszus go. I can control the elements so thoroughly, that I can control things that have no element. Like leather. Or skin. I can also control things that are complex and intricate, like human or Mitszu DNA. Also, I have no tail, as I should. I also lack another animal trait that indicated I am one bracket above the noble Mitszus.
You see, each Mitszu has what is known as our Instinct. You could also refer to Instinct as our inner beast. The more "in tune" a Mitszu is with its Instinct, the stronger it will be. The closer you are to your inner demon, the more animal-like you will appear. This is why weak Mitszus look human and have very little extra powers. Strong Mitszus look more animal-like and have more control over magic and their natural weapons. Mitszus of noble blood have animal ears, animal tails, and can control all the elements available.
Then there's me. I'm very different from the others in my class. Enough so that I'm considered a class in my own. But I'm still odd. Here's the deal: Instinct can take over a Mitszu (or a Mitszu can relinquish control to Instinct). When this happens, Instinct loses its vision in exchange for echolocation. When Instinct runs out of energy to burn or threats to eliminate, it will give up control to the Mitszu. Mitszus have no idea what has happened to them when their Instinct takes control.
I can. I know everything that happens when Instinct takes control and I can even tell Instinct what is and is not a threat to me. This indicates that my relationship with my Instinct is much closer than that of my ancestors. However, there are things missing. The closer the relationship between a Mitszu and its Instinct, the more animal the Mitszu appears. So, if I am even closer to Instinct than my ancestors, I should have more animal signs on my body to show it. The thing is, I have less signs to show it. I should have ears, and a tail, and something else. I only have a pair of ears atop my head to show my relationship with Instinct. So, even for being in my own strength bracket, I'm still a freak.
Fabulous, no?
Now, you've gotten an explanation about Mitszus. But I bet you're still wondering about the planet we hail from. Reska. Reska is a planet that circles around two suns. The hottest part of the day is High Noon, when both suns are shining at their brightest. The coldest part of the night is Deep Night, when both suns are hidden and Reska's four moons come out to play.
Reska can be considered similar to Earth in many ways. However, we have not built upon our planet at thoroughly as you humans have done. Every Mitszu has a sensitive nose, so we tend to be very gentle around nature. Cutting down trees releases silver tree blood. Tree blood smells awful and can be smelled for up to a thousand human miles away.
Reska has technology vastly different than that of Earth. Although we, at one point, did advance to having guns and such, the technology was of no use to us. Bullets hardly damage us. Only weapons fused with magic can harm us enough for us to even notice. The only way to fuse a weapon with your magic is to do so in the Furnaces, where all weapons are forged. Weapons are forged with your own custom magic. The only time the magic is activated is when it is in the owner's hands. For example, if I fuse a sword with the power of air and fire, the air and fire elements within the sword will only respond to me.
So, yes. This is as much background information as I can think to provide you with at the moment. Should any additional information be required, I will explain it at the time.
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