Kagaku Ninja-Tai Gatchaman Fan Fiction ❯ You Are My Sunshine ❯ When Skys Are Gray ( Prologue )
[ P - Pre-Teen ]
By: KayeKytte 
The Nikko Karada never meant to be. The first view of her, her family and the last of her childhood.
Anime/Manga: Kagaku Ninja-Tai Gatchaman Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Sci-fi / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 07.24.2002 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.4K | Visits: 746 | Status: Work In Progress
The Nikko Karada never meant to be. The first view of her, her family and the last of her childhood.
Anime/Manga: Kagaku Ninja-Tai Gatchaman Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Sci-fi / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 07.24.2002 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.4K | Visits: 746 | Status: Work In Progress
When Skies Are Gray
"Hello, Sunshine, how's Father's little sunbeam today?"* One golden skinned hand patted the wind-tousled, snow-white curls of the tiny girl who was dancing excitedly from one foot to the other in front of him.
His beloved wife--almost an oxymoron in his homeland's traditional society, "beloved" and "wife" used in conjunction--was American and had spent a great deal of time over their ten-year marriage sharing her beliefs of life and love with him. One thing he'd slowly adjusted to was the openness with which the Americans showed their affection to each other and their children. But looking into the wide blue eyes of Nikko (Sunshine), his daughter, he realized how easily he was adjusting to the foreign concept of open affection. He cupped his hand gently around her cheek and held her face captive.
"Do we go to the zoo, today Daddy? I've been very, very good!"* Even his calming touch on her face, couldn't quell the excitement that the promised outing had created, and "Daddy" couldn't help but smile.
"I don't know..." He teased now. "Does your mother think you have been very, very good? And how about Taro? Has brother been very, very good?" He turned his attention to a mature adult version of his tiny daughter, who was walking at a more sedate pace down the stairs behind his eldest child, his son Taro, who was chattering non-stop in English about a "really cool" video game he'd mastered--and of course, he was always very good! He never tried Mama's patience like his little sister. Earning a cross-eyed, tongue-stuck-out face from his impatient four-year-old sister.
Karada Ito met his wife at the bottom of the stairs. They exchanged a brief hug and kiss--there was still only so far he would go in front of his youngsters--and were discussing the plans for the zoo visit when their world exploded in a hail of breaking glass and weaponsfire.
* * * *
"...hostage situation has finally ended after three tension-filled days, and the family of highly respected physicist Ito Karada has been taken to Mercy General to receive treatment...there has been some speculation--due to insider tips--that Mrs. Karada and her two children were sexually, as well as physically and mentally abused...we will have updates as soon as new information becomes available..."
!!CLICK!!
A green and black clothed figure snapped off the International News Network, and turned hard, cold eyes on the few men--also dressed in green--standing in front of him. They each trembled in turn as they recognized the expression on the gaunt, too-pretty face framed by the ludicrous horned mask. It was the last action any of them ever took.
* * * *
"We are very sorry, Karada-San...but that was the very last psycho-stimulant we have available--and it still in the experimental stages." The doctor had been working with Karada for the past four years, trying in vain to repair the damage done to his young son's fragile psyche by those 'Terrorist' agents. She had wanted more than anything to give her good friend some positive news--some hope.
The child was in a state of catatonia from which no conventional methods could wake him. In desperation his father had consented to an experimental drug therapy...only to be disappointed. Again.
'...the will of the gods...the fates have spoken...'
He controlled his features with difficulty. "It is no more than I have expected--you have done a great deal for myself and my family, these past years. I owe you a debt of thanks." He took a deep breath, and looked over his shoulder to where his wife was standing with their daughter and shook his head. The easy familiarity he had cultivated with his children, in the "American Way," had died during the incident four years ago, killed as effectively as if they had put a bullet in him, or extinguished the emotion the way his son's bright personality had been snuffed out. He then turned back to the doctor.
"Can Taro be moved, Doctor?"
"Well...yes, I suppose so...physically he's fit enough."
"Fine. I have decided to move my family back to my wife's homeland. It seems that there is another treatment, with a much higher success rate. We leave on a chartered midnight flight, please have my son ready by then. Oh...and Doctor...Thank you." With that, he turned to his wife, scooped the sleeping child from her arms and walked slowly away.
Neither the good doctor nor the disappearing family unit noticed the form dressed in the dull blue-gray and lab-coat of the hospital staff slipping effortlessly into the shadows.
"...the scientist is leaving tonight at midnight on a chartered flight to the United States. His whole family will be on board the plane." An answer in a nasal-pitched resonating voice applauded the agent's vigilance...
"...after three long years, our honor will be replaced, our embarrassment erased..."
* * * *
"Nikki" woke with a start, she looked around her in confusion for a moment. She vaguely recognized the--'plane'--her Da...no, her father, had called it. There was a noisy wind blowing everything around, there was icky black smoke in the air, and she was being jerked around worse than any amusement park ride had ever done. She could hear the black girl in the funny white hat who was looking after Taro, yelling very loudly.
She was screaming at Jesus...Mama wouldn't like that--you didn't talk to God like that--it wasn't nice. Mama! She looked around and found her mother holding her father tight with both arms muttering "Hail Mary" over and over again. She called out, but her mother didn't hear--she just kept praying.
Nicki looked through the crack between the seats at her brother, and that's when she noticed the man--the one wearing the nasty green suit--the same suits as the ones who had "hurt" her and Taro a long time ago. She wasn't supposed to remember--everyone said so--but she still did, she would never, ever, forget.
The man was standing where the door used to be, he had a little black box with blinking lights in one hand and a gun in the other. He was laughing as he pushed a button on the box, pointed the gun at her mother, pulled the trigger...and jumped out of the opening.
Several things happened at once. There were two very LOUD explosions--one from the gun, the other from the door up in the front of the plane--where the driver was--the nurse's screams raised in pitch--her mother's hysterical prayers ended in a awful gurgling sound, and when she looked to see why, her mother wasn't there anymore, just a lot of nasty, icky-looking red stuff... Then she realized just what, and more importantly who, all that red, icky stuff had been and she screamed.
At least she tried to scream. The plane suddenly pitched in a different direction, throwing her forward, held in the seat only by the strap at her waist. The belt dug into her tummy knocking the air out of her and making her get sick. Then there were more loud noises and more bumps and jerks. The last thought she had was that the nurse-girl should never have yelled at God like that, cause now she'd gone and got Him mad at them all...
* * * *
"Hey, Frank! Over here, quick! I've got a live one!" A young man in the uniform of the US Coast Guard came running to where his Japanese counterpart was bending over a small form that had just been pulled from the floating bits of wreckage of a small airplane.
"My, God! It's just a kid...contact that Nambu Something-or-other...and tell him we've got a survivor!" He lowered his voice a bit and added. "...but I don't think she's going to have any info for him..." He looked back at the child with a look of heart-felt sympathy. She was too young and innocent to have to pay for the grown-ups' mistakes.
While he was looking at her, she opened her eyes a crack and murmured something barely audibly in a hoarse whisper. The guardsman looked confused when he couldn't understand the language and looked to the other young man beside him.
His friend bent lower to catch the repeated phrase...then translated in a hushed voice:
"She's begging God not to take her brother..."
"Hello, Sunshine, how's Father's little sunbeam today?"* One golden skinned hand patted the wind-tousled, snow-white curls of the tiny girl who was dancing excitedly from one foot to the other in front of him.
His beloved wife--almost an oxymoron in his homeland's traditional society, "beloved" and "wife" used in conjunction--was American and had spent a great deal of time over their ten-year marriage sharing her beliefs of life and love with him. One thing he'd slowly adjusted to was the openness with which the Americans showed their affection to each other and their children. But looking into the wide blue eyes of Nikko (Sunshine), his daughter, he realized how easily he was adjusting to the foreign concept of open affection. He cupped his hand gently around her cheek and held her face captive.
"Do we go to the zoo, today Daddy? I've been very, very good!"* Even his calming touch on her face, couldn't quell the excitement that the promised outing had created, and "Daddy" couldn't help but smile.
"I don't know..." He teased now. "Does your mother think you have been very, very good? And how about Taro? Has brother been very, very good?" He turned his attention to a mature adult version of his tiny daughter, who was walking at a more sedate pace down the stairs behind his eldest child, his son Taro, who was chattering non-stop in English about a "really cool" video game he'd mastered--and of course, he was always very good! He never tried Mama's patience like his little sister. Earning a cross-eyed, tongue-stuck-out face from his impatient four-year-old sister.
Karada Ito met his wife at the bottom of the stairs. They exchanged a brief hug and kiss--there was still only so far he would go in front of his youngsters--and were discussing the plans for the zoo visit when their world exploded in a hail of breaking glass and weaponsfire.
* * * *
"...hostage situation has finally ended after three tension-filled days, and the family of highly respected physicist Ito Karada has been taken to Mercy General to receive treatment...there has been some speculation--due to insider tips--that Mrs. Karada and her two children were sexually, as well as physically and mentally abused...we will have updates as soon as new information becomes available..."
!!CLICK!!
A green and black clothed figure snapped off the International News Network, and turned hard, cold eyes on the few men--also dressed in green--standing in front of him. They each trembled in turn as they recognized the expression on the gaunt, too-pretty face framed by the ludicrous horned mask. It was the last action any of them ever took.
* * * *
"We are very sorry, Karada-San...but that was the very last psycho-stimulant we have available--and it still in the experimental stages." The doctor had been working with Karada for the past four years, trying in vain to repair the damage done to his young son's fragile psyche by those 'Terrorist' agents. She had wanted more than anything to give her good friend some positive news--some hope.
The child was in a state of catatonia from which no conventional methods could wake him. In desperation his father had consented to an experimental drug therapy...only to be disappointed. Again.
'...the will of the gods...the fates have spoken...'
He controlled his features with difficulty. "It is no more than I have expected--you have done a great deal for myself and my family, these past years. I owe you a debt of thanks." He took a deep breath, and looked over his shoulder to where his wife was standing with their daughter and shook his head. The easy familiarity he had cultivated with his children, in the "American Way," had died during the incident four years ago, killed as effectively as if they had put a bullet in him, or extinguished the emotion the way his son's bright personality had been snuffed out. He then turned back to the doctor.
"Can Taro be moved, Doctor?"
"Well...yes, I suppose so...physically he's fit enough."
"Fine. I have decided to move my family back to my wife's homeland. It seems that there is another treatment, with a much higher success rate. We leave on a chartered midnight flight, please have my son ready by then. Oh...and Doctor...Thank you." With that, he turned to his wife, scooped the sleeping child from her arms and walked slowly away.
Neither the good doctor nor the disappearing family unit noticed the form dressed in the dull blue-gray and lab-coat of the hospital staff slipping effortlessly into the shadows.
"...the scientist is leaving tonight at midnight on a chartered flight to the United States. His whole family will be on board the plane." An answer in a nasal-pitched resonating voice applauded the agent's vigilance...
"...after three long years, our honor will be replaced, our embarrassment erased..."
* * * *
"Nikki" woke with a start, she looked around her in confusion for a moment. She vaguely recognized the--'plane'--her Da...no, her father, had called it. There was a noisy wind blowing everything around, there was icky black smoke in the air, and she was being jerked around worse than any amusement park ride had ever done. She could hear the black girl in the funny white hat who was looking after Taro, yelling very loudly.
She was screaming at Jesus...Mama wouldn't like that--you didn't talk to God like that--it wasn't nice. Mama! She looked around and found her mother holding her father tight with both arms muttering "Hail Mary" over and over again. She called out, but her mother didn't hear--she just kept praying.
Nicki looked through the crack between the seats at her brother, and that's when she noticed the man--the one wearing the nasty green suit--the same suits as the ones who had "hurt" her and Taro a long time ago. She wasn't supposed to remember--everyone said so--but she still did, she would never, ever, forget.
The man was standing where the door used to be, he had a little black box with blinking lights in one hand and a gun in the other. He was laughing as he pushed a button on the box, pointed the gun at her mother, pulled the trigger...and jumped out of the opening.
Several things happened at once. There were two very LOUD explosions--one from the gun, the other from the door up in the front of the plane--where the driver was--the nurse's screams raised in pitch--her mother's hysterical prayers ended in a awful gurgling sound, and when she looked to see why, her mother wasn't there anymore, just a lot of nasty, icky-looking red stuff... Then she realized just what, and more importantly who, all that red, icky stuff had been and she screamed.
At least she tried to scream. The plane suddenly pitched in a different direction, throwing her forward, held in the seat only by the strap at her waist. The belt dug into her tummy knocking the air out of her and making her get sick. Then there were more loud noises and more bumps and jerks. The last thought she had was that the nurse-girl should never have yelled at God like that, cause now she'd gone and got Him mad at them all...
* * * *
"Hey, Frank! Over here, quick! I've got a live one!" A young man in the uniform of the US Coast Guard came running to where his Japanese counterpart was bending over a small form that had just been pulled from the floating bits of wreckage of a small airplane.
"My, God! It's just a kid...contact that Nambu Something-or-other...and tell him we've got a survivor!" He lowered his voice a bit and added. "...but I don't think she's going to have any info for him..." He looked back at the child with a look of heart-felt sympathy. She was too young and innocent to have to pay for the grown-ups' mistakes.
While he was looking at her, she opened her eyes a crack and murmured something barely audibly in a hoarse whisper. The guardsman looked confused when he couldn't understand the language and looked to the other young man beside him.
His friend bent lower to catch the repeated phrase...then translated in a hushed voice:
"She's begging God not to take her brother..."