[Shounen Onmyouji][FIC] First Contact - Masahiro theme #49 Title: First Contact Writer: shinnite Series: Shounen Onmyouji/ new Doctor Who Pairing: None Rating: PG Theme: #49 - Alien visitation/invasion Notes: Takes place post season 3 (Doctor Who) and post series (Shounen Onmyouji) Wordcount: 776 Teaser: There was a blue box in the Abe complex.
There was a blue box in the Abe complex.
Masahiro blinked rapidly, wondering if he was imagining it, but the box refused to move from its place next to the pond in their garden. It was certainly an odd blue box, the likes of which he’d never seen before. Curious, he moved closer, trying to determine if it was a figure of his imagination or not, ignoring the voice in the back of his mind (which, oddly enough, sounded like Mokkun) that pointed out how dangerous getting close to an unknown object was.
The box was tall, towering over him, and appeared to be made out of some sort of painted wood. Up near the top there were…mirrors? He squinted; no, not quite – they appeared similar to mirrors but they didn’t seem to reflect any light. Just above the mirror-like squares was a black strip with some sort of odd, white markings that might have been symbols or writing, but certainly nothing that he had ever seen. Even more curious now, Masahiro reached out to touch it, wondering if he would feel solid wood or possibly something else.
The side suddenly swung inward and Masahiro yelped in surprise, jumping a couple of steps back and nearly falling. The inner-Mokkun voice was back, scolding him for getting so close, and could he possibly be any slower in getting a defensive spell ready in case something nasty appeared? For a moment Masahiro wished the shikigami were by his side like usual, instead of taking a blissful nap after a long night. And where were his grandfather’s shikigami, a small part wondered darkly – they should have sensed any intrusion and shown up, unless something was preventing them from –
“Hello!” A cheerful, masculine voice drew his full attention back to the mysterious blue box, where a man was leaning against the frame of the opening.
No, not a man but a kami, his mind revised, for Masahiro couldn’t imagine a human quite like the being before him. The kami was standing there with windblown hair and a cheerful smile that somehow seemed empty, and almost brittle around the edges. Exotic clothes, clothes that Masahiro had never seen before and were a little scandalous, graced his form – they were close fitting, composed of different pieces that he was sure had names, but he didn’t know what those names were. The only other individuals he’d seen dressed remotely like this were the Twelve Generals and the dragon of Kifune Mountain, Takaokaminokami.
“Hello!” A hand waved in front of his face. “You seem to have spaced out.”
Masahiro flushed in embarrassment as he was caught staring. “Ah, sorry.”
“Not a problem,” the kami replied. His voice was smooth, with some sort of odd accent that the young boy couldn’t place, but his pronunciation was perfect. It was almost enough to distract from the fact that his words didn’t quite match up to the movement of his lips, like he was saying something else and it filtered into Masahiro’s ears in a way he could understand. “Excuse me, but would you mind telling me what year this is, exactly?”
Masahiro looked skeptical. “It’s the year Chōhō 4.”
“Chōhō 4 you say? Hmmm…Aha! That makes it about 1002 AD!” The kami clapped his hands, rubbing them together. “Brilliant!” He took a few steps forward, looking at his surroundings. The blue box closed up behind him with a soft click.
“Excuse me,” Masahiro began, “but what exactly is…this?” He gestured toward the box.
“It’s obvious this is Japan,” the kami murmured, paying more attention to the complex than the boy next to him. “And we’re in someone’s home…yours?” He redirected his attention to the young onmyouji. “What’s your name, anyway?”
“Masahiro,” he replied, giving the kami before him a look of annoyance. “Abe no Masahiro. How can you not know where you are and what year it is?”
“Ah, time travel. Messy, complicated stuff,” the kami replied dismissively. “Hold on, Abe no Masahiro? Any relation to Abe no Seimei?”
Masahiro bristled in reflex. “He’s my grandfather.”
Well, he certainly had the kami’s attention now. “Grandson? You’re Abe no Seimei’s grandson?”
“Don’t call me grandson!” Masahiro shouted, the familiar cry echoing in the air. Turning around, he stalked back toward the main complex. The kami, no matter how strange he was, most likely wasn’t a threat, he reasoned. And his grandfather would know how to better deal with infuriating kami.
The kami in question watched as the young onmyouji stalked away from him. “The long lost grandson of Abe no Seimei, eh?” He wondered aloud, a grin forming on his face. “Fantastic.”