Miwako reached out and ran a finger along the window. Sunlight streamed in on her, warming her skin and brightening the unlighted room. Metal ran through the glass, dividing it into neat squares. The white paint was old, turning gray and dusted with cobwebs. The Dream Warrior raised her hand and looked at the dirt on her fingertips. There were footsteps behind her, entering the room. "Miwako? Something wrong?" Miwako brushed her hands against each other. "No, nothing wrong," she replied. "But this house...it feels very lonely." She turned. Hiro looked back at her, his violet eyes expressionless. "Lonely? I suppose that's one way to put it." "How would you put it, then?" Miwako smiled. "Me? I don't know." Hiro shrugged, and twitched his head. Miwako blinked as the gesture reminded her of a bird. "Lot of things happened here. Lot of memories..." "Memories? Hm." Miwako turned and reached out to the window again. She caught sight of her reflection and smiled at the way her face was framed by her brown hair. Brown hair? Miwako blinked in confusion, then saw red hair in the glass. She peered closer. It was definitely her reflection, now...But just for a moment... Then she realized Hiro was talking and refocused on his words. "So you are the latest to wield these powers," he said. "Wait, what? Latest?" She turned at looked at the spirit guide again. "There were others?" Hiro stared at her. "Of course. None have become corrupted to the extent of this Dream Fighter, however. Not in my memory." "How many others were there?" Miwako glanced back at the window. Hiro twitched his shoulders again. "The Loki Cult has been around for a long time. Other than that, I can't say." "You can't say?" Miwako frowned. "But I'm the Dream Warrior, correct?" "Yes, of course." Hiro sighed. "It's not that simple, really. Anyway, it's not important. You don't have to worry about that." The spirit guide began to pace in a circle. "You must defeat the corrupted Dream Fighter, and make sure..." Miwako stared as he walked back and forth. "Make sure what? She didn't seem to be hurting anyone. In fact, she helped us defeat--" "That's not the point!" Miwako shrank back involuntarily as Hiro rounded on her, fists clenched. Then he took a deep, ragged breath. "That's not the point," he said again. "There is an old...story. If there are three Dream Fighters, or Warriors, or Soldiers...such a thing must not be allowed to happen." Miwako digested this for a moment. "But you're not going to hire someone else, right? Unless--is there some other way for a Dream Fighter to, uh, appear, or something?" "It happened once...once in my memory." Hiro's pacing looked strangely robotic to her eyes. "Only once, in a very long time. But it did happen." "And so, it could happen again." Miwako looked around the room. There seemed to be a sense of something...pressure building, perhaps... Hiro twitched again. "I don't know. You must defeat the Dream Fighter. And there must be a Dream Warrior to stand against the darkness." Miwako swallowed. "But what about--" "You must!" Hiro began to make clawing motions at the air. "There must be someone to stand against the darkness--there must not be three--" "Hey! Hey, Hiro!" Miwako stepped forward and grabbed Hiro's shoulder. He turned and looked wildly at her for a moment. "It's okay. Okay?" She tried to sound reassuring. "It's okay. I'll fight and make sure things turn out okay." Miwako smiled. After a moment, Hiro let out a small chuckle. "That's--okay, yes. Thank you, Dream Warrior." He patted Miwako's hand. "Your spirit is commendable. Good. Yes...good." Hiro disengaged, nodding to himself, and turned to walk out of the room. Miwako looked back at the window, one last time. The sunlight didn't seem quite as bright now. ===== Nightmare Fighter Yumeko Chapter 7: The Seventh Day ===== Swish. Swish. Swish-swish...thump. Seiko inhaled, then drew her hand back. She stepped to the side and ran through the steps of the kata again. A sliding step to the back and a punch forward, then on the next count an elbow behind her. Quickly afterward she raised her foot and shot a kick to the side, listening to the displaced air. Another punch finished the sequence, connecting solidly with the padded practice post. Thump. Her bracelet swung lazily on her wrist as a dull ache blossomed in Seiko's hand. Taking a breath, she distanced herself from the pain, letting it fall away inside her. Into a deep hole that led to nothing... Pain flared in Seiko's stomach and she grabbed the post, almost falling over. She blinked in confusion. This was not physical pain, but a stab of-- rage? fear? She couldn't tell. Seiko breathed in and out several times, slowly, then grit her teeth. She straightened up and looked around. It was a clear day. The sun shone brightly, but a gentle breeze played with the folds of Seiko's martial arts uniform, cooling her. The young woman gazed around the strip of green that served as the Sakurobi household's yard; only grass met her view, dappled with shadows cast by a nearby tree, worn thin around the battered practice post. Nothing that would cause her any sort of distress, at least at first glance. Seiko stared at the post. There was something here...And she was getting tired of mysteries. Even if it was ultimately trivial, she would figure this out. Seiko let her gaze unfocus and tried to remember. She was out here, training, improving, as she did so often, a habit. But it was more than habit. Seiko looked at the post, a thick branch driven into the ground years ago, wrapped with padding. Into the ground, years ago... "And don't worry, I'll show you how to use it. Here..." A memory of a warm, close voice. Seiko took a shuddering breath. Of course, it had to be...Everything came back to him, these days. "Just put the pain into a hole inside you. A deep hole where it won't come out. It's easy, see?" More mature, cocky this time. Seiko felt the sadness and something else welling up inside her...Then, as she always did, she forced it to turn, to change. Her heart hardened, burned. She would find out what had happened to him and get revenge. Seiko pulled her arm back, gaze still unfocused, and drove her hand forward. A sharp crack jolted her out of her reverie. Seiko blinked and saw the practice post leaning at an angle. She stared, as pain again flared in her arm. ===== "Thanks for buying," Misako said, taking another bite of shaved ice. "Mmmm, yeah. I used up most of my money going shopping last week." "Oh, no problem." Keiji smiled, and idly stirred his bowl around. Misako looked at her companion, then rested her chin on her hand. "You're worried about her, aren't you?" Keiji looked up in surprise. Then he looked off to the side, wondering how to put his feelings into words. "Well..." He reached back and rubbed the back of his head. "The thing is..." "Keiji, you take the most time to think before speaking, of anyone I've ever met." Misako smiled. Keiji smiled back, a bit uncertainly. "Is that a compliment?" "What do you think?" After a moment, he shrugged. "I'll take it as one." "Okay." Misako grinned, then her expression faded. "But you are, aren't you?" "Worried? Well...yeah. About Yumeko." Keiji slouched a bit more in his chair. "She just seems so different recently, somehow." He rubbed his face. "Something's wrong, but she...won't say anything. You know?" Misako looked at him. "Well, of course *I* know. I was there too, remember?" "Oh. Oh, yeah. Well..." He sighed. "I don't know. I don't know what to do." "Keiji." Misako's face was more serious than Keiji thought he'd ever seen it. "Sometimes...There's not really anything you can do." She toyed with her spoon. "Like, people change...A lot of people I've known for years have really changed a lot." She looked up again. "And it's just how life works, right?" "Yeah. I guess." Keiji ran a hand through his hair. "It doesn't make it any easier, though. I just--I just wish I could do something." "I know. I understand." Misako reached out and put her hand over his. "I know." She smiled, and he smiled back. ===== Yumeko flipped idly through her math notebook. She caught sight of a doodle on one of the pages and looked at it more closely. It was a little way of thinking about factoring numbers she'd come up with in class one day. It occurred to her that if she assumed the number was odd, then that number was even...therefore she could take out a 4 and the expression was a lot simpler. Yumeko raised her eyebrows. The equations seemed to say that if you could add a square to a number to make it another square, then you could factor it... There was a knock at the door. "Yumeko?" Yumeko felt her stomach clench as she heard her mother's voice. "Yes?" "Is...now a good time to talk?" Yumeko looked at the equations, that suddenly seemed so much gibberish. She sighed. "As good a time as any," she called back, turning to face the door. Yumeko's mother Natsukashii opened the door and stepped inside, then gently closed it again. She smiled softly. "Good afternoon, dear." "Good afternoon." Yumeko kept her face neutral. Her mother's smile faltered. "Is...well, how are you doing?" she asked. "Fine." Yumeko shrugged. "Just studying." "Oh...that's good. What subject?" "Math." Yumeko turned and flipped some pages again. "I seem to have a talent for it," she said, frowning. "Ah, yes. Just like your father." Yumeko blinked, then turned to stare at her mother. Natsukashii's eyes widened, and her expression fell. "Yumeko, I--" "*What*?" Yumeko heard the anger in her own voice, and quashed the vague feeling of uneasiness. "Yumeko, I'm sorry." Sorrow and a faint hope shone from the older woman's eyes. Yumeko somehow felt herself becoming detached from the scene, like she was watching herself speak. "Sorry?" "Yes. I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you, while you were growing up." Natsukashii walked forward and took a seat on Yumeko's bed. She gazed at her daughter, hands on her knees. "I didn't see much of my father, your grandfather, when I was growing up. So, I know how hard it can be to not have a parent, so...I just wanted to say I was sorry. In case I hadn't said it before." Her face radiated compassion. Yumeko thought for a moment. "Is that it?" Natsukashii blinked. "What?" "Is that it? Is that all you're sorry for?" Yumeko's mother studied her. "I'm not sure I--" "Don't you understand ANYTHING?" Yumeko watched her mother flinch. For some reason, there was a sense of--colors, roiling around her. "You left," she continued, voice lower. "You gave up and ran away." "You--don't understand," Natsukashii said after a moment. "You didn't know how hard it was, the court--" "It doesn't *matter*." Again Yumeko caught a glimpse of the colors, recoiling from her voice. "You ran away, like you would find yourself somewhere else. Like you needed someone else to tell you who you were. Like that Katsuhiro guy." She let derision creep into her words. Her mother stared. "Now--Yumeko, that--All right." She took a breath. "He was a mistake. I admit that. But since then, I--" "Quiet!" Yumeko snapped. Swirling, darkening. "You gave up, and ran away, and still don't know who you are. And you left Shinichi alone. I'm ashamed of you. Ashamed you're my mother." Yumeko crossed her arms. Natsukashii sat still for a moment. Then, she ran her hand across her eyes. "So. That's how you feel." "Yes." "I...see." She rubbed her eyes again. "I...didn't realize. That--I'm, I don't--I'm sorry, Yumeko." Her voice was level, but Yumeko saw tears rolling down her mother's face before she turned away and stood up. "I, I'll leave you alone now." Yumeko turned back to her desk. She stared blankly down at the notebook. After a few moments, she put her head in her arms. There was another knock at the door. Yumeko didn't move. "Neechan?" Yumeko raised her head and blinked. She turned to the door. "Shinichi? Is that you?" "Yes. Can I come in?" He sounded--scared? "Sure, come on in." Yumeko turned and straightened her blouse. Shinichi opened the door and entered the room, holding a pillow and a stuffed animal to his chest. Yumeko smiled, just a little. "Hi, Shinichi-kun." "Neechan...I'm sorry!" Yumeko blinked. "What? Why, Shinichi?" The boy looked down. "I--I made you upset, didn't I? You're feeling sad, I can tell." "What? No--Shinichi, I..." Yumeko sighed. "Shinichi, come here." As he walked over to her, she bent her head to look into his eyes. "I'm a little sad today, yes. But it really has nothing to do with you." He looked back at her, and bit his lip. "Really?" "Yes, really. Here." Yumeko gathered her brother up and put him in her lap. "Give me a hug, okay?" "I'm sorry, neechan." He snuggled against her. "It's okay, it's okay. Don't worry." Yumeko smiled, stroking his hair. "It's okay..." "Neechan, here." Shinichi pushed himself away a bit, and put the pillow into her arms. "Hm, what--Shinichi, isn't this Neko-kun?" Yumeko looked at the pillow, shaped like a happy cat face. "I gave this to *you*." "I know. But he said you needed him back." Yumeko smiled. "He did?" "Uh huh!" Shinichi nodded seriously. "I was feeling sad, so I lay down on my bed and hugged him for a while, and he said that if I gave him to you, we'd both feel better." Yumeko looked at her brother. "Really?" She blinked. "Was it a dream, Shinichi-kun?" Shinichi considered. "Um, I don't know. Maybe. But you should take him back, okay?" "What about you?" Yumeko tousled her brother's hair. "Don't you need him?" "I like him, but I'll be okay. Mommy got me a new friend." He held up the stuffed animal, a bright green frog in a vest. "His name is Kero. Like Kero-chan, only different." After a moment, Yumeko smiled, a real smile. She hugged her brother tightly. "Thank you." He hugged back. "I love you, neechan..." "I love you, too." They stayed like that for several moments. "Shinichi! Lunchtime!" Natsukashii called. "Oh!" Shinichi squirmed out of Yumeko's grasp. "Um, will you come have lunch, neechan?" "No...no, that's okay." Yumeko smiled. "I'll just stay here for now. Maybe later." "Okay. Bye!" He ran out of the room. Yumeko looked at the empty doorway. After a moment, she sighed and brushed one hand against her hair. She looked at the pillow in her arms for several moments, then tossed it on the bed. Then, after a few more moments, Yumeko stood and picked up the pillow again. She placed it gently in her bag. ===== Re: Square does NOT suck - are you sure? posted by MasterThief in reply to: Re: Square does NOT suck Hey, yeah it's the Thief again, I just wanted to say that while Square is unquestionably cool they *aren't* perfect...Like with 8, the whole plot is sort of old, y'know, there's more to life than saving damsels in distress, as someone just reminded me recently...she knows who she is :) They handled it well, of course, but, y'know... Of course what really gets me is the twisting of old legends and stuff...Like the Dove guy said about Shiva being male and stuff, great story man :) And my pet peeve is Odin...with two eyes, TWO EYES? I mean, come on guys... Incidentally Odin was a strange sort of hero in his own right...he gave up that one eye in order to get wisdom and the knowledge of magic and stuff...Not to save any 'damsel' :) So it all fits together, you see? -=MasterThief=- ===== Takuya clicked the 'Submit' button and exhaled. Then he grinned. "In rare form again," he said to himself. Disconnecting his net connection, Takuya looked over at his PlayStation. Then he looked at the clock. Another couple of hours wouldn't hurt... "Takuya! Are you still awake?" a voice called. "No, mother," he called back. "I'm calling out to you from my dreams as we speak." "Good!" Takuya sighed. Well, tomorrow was another day. He shut down his computer and walked over to his bed. Looking at it for a moment, he suddenly took a jump and landed square in the middle. Sleep stole over him like a soft shawl as he wriggled into the blankets. Yes, tomorrow was another day, and after school he could again rant to his heart's content. How could those Square guys get something like that wrong anyway...it was integral to the whole story. The horse with eight legs, the ravens, and the one eye...It couldn't be *that* hard to get them all right, could it?... ===== In the realm of dreams, mists swirled. As they always did. It was sort of a default mode for the place. Tonight, however, they were swirling differently. A bit less roily, and more condense-ish. In fact, they seemed to be gathering together into an image. A patchwork cloak stirred and shifted. A mask peeked out from its folds. Fable watched as a figure formed in the scudding mists. A giggle escaped his mask as it grew, tall and grandiose. Tall, armored, a warrior armed with a great spear, atop a strange horse. A familiar figure. Fable slowly stretched out, rousing himself from his rest. His hands probed the edge of the image, then traced downward. He followed the invisible currents down to the half-visible sleeper, until they reached the junction of mind and dream. Then, with a quick wrench, the dream was pulled free. The dreamer moaned and squirmed in its phantasmal bed, as Fable had known would happen. He paid the sleeping human no heed, instead studying the image he had stolen as it melted and ran like hot wax, like sand through a thin glass tube. The colors drew together and solidified, until all that was left was a small strip of cloth in Fable's hand. Fable raised the cloth to his eye and peered at it. After a moment, he put it experimentally over one eye. Another low chuckle emanated from the mask. Then he reached down and took some folds of his cloak in one hand. Sorting through them, Fable found an appropriate spot and pulled at the stitching. In a few moments there was a small hole in the cloak, at which point he began to weave the stitches and threads into the piece of dream cloth he'd just received. Whistling a Wagnerian air, Fable glanced over at the sleeper, who was having some sort of dream about a great web of lightning. Interesting, but not urgent. Turning back to his work, the harlequin-masked being watched his hands go about their business. After another couple of minutes his cloak was whole again, no sign of any rent left visible. Fable stood up and swirled his cloak around in a dramatic fashion. Gauging its length with a practiced eye, he chuckled. "Not bad. Almost there, in fact. Almost there..." He disappeared, leaving the dreamer to dream of webs. ===== The girl opened the door and peered inside. The shrine was empty--no, the priestess was there, kneeling before the shrine. The girl stepped inside and let the door close. After a moment of silence, she cleared her throat. "Come in, Meika-chan," the priestess said, her voice light. "Um, yes. Of course." The girl took a few steps into the room, tben stopped uncertainly. "What news?" Clear, soft was her voice, as always. "Well." Meika swallowed. "It seems our charge is coming along as we expected. That is, a little slower..." "Slower, yes. She is different, but too valuable to give up on." The priestess had still not turned to face the girl. Meika glanced uneasily at the statue that dominated the shrine. "Mistress, please forgive my impertinence...but why--" "We all have our talents, Meika-chan." The priestess stood, then turned to face her. Once again Meika was struck by the woman's dazzling, almost eerie beauty. Her long black hair swayed gently, her smile was soft and pure. "I know you wish you could do more. But while you are valuable, you do not possess the right qualities...It's simply something that you're born with." She tilted her head to the side. "I believe the term is genetic, yes?" Meika blinked. "Genetic? Then--that's why, her and--" "Her brother, yes." The older woman smiled again. "Very often such things are associated with particular bloodlines. Now then, does anything else require my attention at the moment?" "Well...one of our subordinates was, sent away." "Yes, I felt it. And there were signs of intereference, from some unknown entity?" Meika nodded. "Worrisome, yes," the prietess said. "But not urgent, by any means. Right at the moment, I have a special opportunity in mind for you." Meika felt like the woman was looking right into her soul. "You may assist me with the birthing of a new dream." She began to walk toward another door that led further into the temple. "With a new--what? Mistress, wait." The girl jogged to catch up, as the priestess walked through the door and down a hall. "You mean, one of our-- servants?" The priestess chuckled musically. "Yes, that's one way of saying it. Here we are." She opened another door. "Mistress, I'm honored that--wh, what is this?" Meika's eyes widened as she entered the room. It was a bedroom, containing one small futon upon which lay a young girl. The girl was shockingly pale and thin, fragile as china. Meika guessed that the sleeping girl was her own age, but her condition made her seem years younger. Or, perhaps, years older... The priestess knelt beside the futon and stroked the girl's forehead, smoothing back the short brown hair that framed her face on the pillow. Meika knelt on the other side. "Who--" "Her name is Mio," the priestess replied. "She has a very special, a unique talent. In her own way, she is as powerful as any player in the game. All she needs is someone to direct her potential." As Meika watched, the girl stirred and made a small sound. Her brow furrowed. "What's happening?" Meika whispered. "It begins again. You have the talent to see, I think. Look for yourself." The priestess took a cloudy gray gem from her clothes and held it in the air over Mio's form. Meika nodded and took a deep breath. She furrowed her brow, trying to focus her mind as she'd been taught. Flickers of otherworldly color intruded on her vision as she began to slip into another state. And then she saw it. A stain of blackness was growing in the air, centered on the gray gem. It deepened and expanded, sucking the light away, tainting Meika's sight. Her concentration almost broke when she first saw the eyes, but she held on and forced herself to watch. Nothing could happen to her here, she knew. Not on her home territory, as it were. Meika kept repeating that as the darkness solidified into a monstrous form. Armored plates covered a squat, vaguely canine body, teeth and claws and eyes gleaming on the fringes. With a guttural snarl the thing jumped out of the air and landed on the other side of the room. Meika shrank back as its gaze roved over her, and almost stood up to run when the beast curled into a ball and rolled toward the door. In a flash it was gone, and in another moment its jagged footsteps had faded in the distance. Meika released a shuddering breath. She turned back and let her perception fade to normality. The priestess was still holding her hand above Mio's body, though it now was empty. Meika stared at her. She opened her mouth, but at that moment Mio coughed and stirred. The priestess bent down. "Mio-chan? Are you there?" "Yes..." Tears began to roll down the girl's face, and she sobbed once. "It's all right. I'm here, don't worry." The priestess stroked her face. "It's all right..." "Oh, it was--it was horrible." Meika gazed at the girl, listening to her voice, sounding like it came from far away. "It was--a thing with a--a hard shell like, you couldn't hurt it even if you--if you had the guts to." She sobbed again. "There, there. There, there, it's all right. No evil spirits will harm you here. I promise." Meika watched, unsure of her own emotions, as the priestess embraced the fragile-looking girl. ===== To be continued... ===== Author's Note Well...Once again, a Nightmare Fighter Yumeko part takes WAY too long to write. It's my fault for putting it off so long. Anyway...I'm changing the rules a little, so hopefully parts will come along faster and be easier to write. Read the Rules page for more details. As for the mathematical stuff...Check it out: Assume r is odd, therefore it has two factors (which may be itself and 1) Call the factors u and v, so uv = r Assume that r is not a perfect square (this is easy to check before starting) Therefore u does not equal v Without loss of generality, assume v > u Therefore v = u + w Since u and v are both odd, w must be even Therefore w can be divided by 2, so w = 2a Therefore v = u + 2a Therefore u(u + 2a) = r Therefore u^2 + 2au - r = 0 Therefore u = -a +- sqrt(a^2 + r) It's easy to get from here to the linear time factorization algorithm. SBP, also on Beware the Radish, has an implementation of the algorithm in Perl. That's all for now... "Since when was Shiva connected with cold?" "I dunno...since when was he female?" --Ravi Duvvuri John Evans jevans@alum.mit.edu 6/22/00 Beware the Radish http://www.chaoseed.com/btr/