Title: Isle Fractions

Fandom: Rave
Disclaimer: Umi-chii still can’t make Hiro Mashima sell Rave.
Author’s Notes: The plot bunny was spawned while reading this fic, where Byakuya was described as a fleeting figure. It was further fueled by the memory of watching Supernatural so... this is where I am right now. Besides, I don't think there has been a Rave ghost fic.

0. Down the Road

Lucia stared out through the car window, chin propped on top of his fist. Beside him in the driver’s seat, King hummed a soft tune, probably that of the rock band Demon Card’s.

They’d been on the road for the entire day. A few more hours and the road would be dark. Hopefully enough, they’ll arrive at their designated new home before the dark gets them.

As the road got bumpier, Lucia recollected his thoughts about the entire decision to move. His mother died just two months ago. His father, King, was totally devastated by it. He didn’t really care, at first. He is—was never close to his mother. She isn’t his real mother anyway. After her burial, a friend of King’s called, notifying him about a new house on sale… that was the time when King decided to move to a new place, a new town, wishing to start all over again.

‘Yeah. And have a new brother, probably.’ He thought darkly, before glaring back at the all the brown stuffs outside his window.

Their new house was actually located some two or more towns away from their original one, Mary Loose. They begun traveling yesterday early in the morning, stayed at a cheap hotel for the night, and then begin traveling again when the rooster crowed. And now, after dozing off, Lucia counts the number of days it will take before his father decides that moving is, indeed, a pain in the ass.

Last time he checked, he had been moving from town to town nearly four times in his entire 17 years of living, this one being the fifth. First was when his father divorced with his first wife, Lucia’s stepmother. He was only around 5 years old then. The second time was when Lucia got into a fight—rather, a huge brawl of fists and kicks with their neighbor’s son. That was the bloodiest moment of his life, he recalled. He stayed at the hospital for an entire week, before moving to a new town, after getting beaten by five brutes ten times larger and bulkier than his 7-year old frame. The next one was when his father picked the wrong location, and after a huge thunderstorm, their house went into ashes that they have to move again, and this time, to Mary Loose, where King met Emilia. He was already 14 when he met the sweet and gentle lady. He would have learnt to love her, if only she didn’t look down at him with hidden fear and worry. Worry for what? He didn’t bother to know.

The car made a screeching noise when it went past a bigger rock, the jump catching Lucia off-guard, his body turning rigid before looking at his father with wide angry eyes.

“The hell is that for?”

“You were thinking bad thoughts.”

“Moron.” He spat at him angrily, before going back to his direction of facing the east. He heard a low chuckle coming from the elder blond, but failed to duck from an offending hand that went up to his hair and ruffle it.

“Whatever you said, kiddo.”

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, except for King’s continuous humming of old 80’s rock songs.

Parking the car outside an old bar, both father and son open their own car door. Shoes stepping on rough dirt road, they both looked around the isolated town.

“Dad, are we in Wild Wild West or what?”

“Probably, kiddo. Anyways, it’ll be a few more miles of riding before we get there. Just gotta reload and all.”

Grunting, Lucia followed his father into the bar. Once inside, he grimaces at the sight of old and greasy men loitering around, some unconscious, either from fists or too many drinks.

“Dad, can we hurry things up?”

“Hush, kiddo.”

He scowled at his old man, but followed anyway. He couldn’t help but flinch when a drunk man with fuzzy beard slumped right in front of him. He was able to avoid it, with years of training in dodging falling bodies, but the side of his arm was touched. Calling out for his father again, Lucia hurried ahead, attaching himself exactly an inch next to his father.

When they arrived at the bar, a young lady, barely 18, was behind it polishing some glasses with a white rug. King pulled out his wallet and slammed a hundred Edel , speaking in that weird Western accent he picked up from staying in the desert in his youth.

“50 for food, the rest for gas.”

The girl just looked down at King with a raised eyebrow, which Lucia noticed was pierced and tattooed, before snatching the money and walked away, maybe to call someone else in and do the work. Lucia didn’t stay behind in the bar anymore. The moment the woman left, he quickly turned round and left the bar, the car being his targeted destination.

Hunching his jackets tighter around him, the actually hot air of the town chilled Lucia to the bones. Pulling the car door open, he settled himself inside and chose to wait for his father to come back with supplies.

“And I was crying out loud… like you never know…”

“Dad, stop singing.”

“Then she said— The hell?!”

“You were asking for it,” Lucia bluntly said, fingers not leaving the radio’s switch to make sure his father wouldn’t try to switch them on again. His eyes remained glaring at similar ones opposite him. “I’ll go mad if you keep on singing. Think of it as a life-saving action. By that, I mean saving your life, because I’m pretty sure I would’ve ripped you while insane.”

King snorted at this and went back to stirring the wheel, but not after being able to swat at the hand on the radio’s switch and ruffle blond hair.

“Someday, you’ve gotta learn when to respect your father.”

“I ain’t respecting you ‘til you learn to respect me, dad.” Lucia answered softly, before going back to looking at his direction, the east. King continued to hum his favorite 80’s rock music, fingers often tapping the steering wheel.

The ride continued on for another half an hour, until the car came to a screeching halt outside a black rusty gate. Eyes wide, Lucia stared at the creepy mansion, hands unconsciously taking the seatbelt off.

“Dad… are you sure we’re in the right place?”

“No doubt about it, kiddo.” King muttered softly, eyes also staring at the mansion. Then he noticed a man standing somewhere inside the gate, waving at them. “I think that’s the dude, dad.” Lucia whispered to him.

“Yep, that’s him,” King said, nodding at his son to follow him. “Come on.”

Car doors opening simultaneously, father and son approached the man inside. They jumped a bit when the rusted gate suddenly opened on its own accord.

Smiling widely at them, Genma continued waving his hand at the two approaching figures. “Well, howdy, guys. Glad ya can make it all the way here! Neways, gotta make ‘is quick. Hafta leave, y’know?”

Nodding slightly, King listened to the man talk while Lucia looks around the mansion, examining its windows and walls with disdain.

“Old Man Sinclair wanna get rid of this ol’ house, y’know? No one is alive from that family nemore, so instead of burnin’ down hundred o’ years o’ generations, they thought o’ sellin’ ‘em houses. It’s a real pain, y’know? I’ve gotta sell ‘em more than seven houses.”

Ignoring the still talking man, Lucia goes back to looking at the house. It was then when a sight of fluttering curtains caught his attention. Stepping a foot closer, he squints his eyes to inspect the second floor window from his place. Then there was it again. The sudden appearance of something with an unordinary matte of silver. Blinking, the blond rubs his eyes before looking back at the window, its curtain now not fluttering anymore.

“What the…”

“And that’s all there is to know, dude. Hope ya dun get a rowdy time in this lil ol’ grandma. She gets cranky at times, when unregistered guests enter the house.”

Grinning back at the countryfolk, King side stepped the man and approached his son.

“Dad, what does he mean by… cranky…?”

“Oh ignore him, kiddo. You know how these country people are.”

Shrugging softly, King turned around and went back to their car, probably to get their luggage. Lucia sighed softly and trudged on ahead, after sparing one last look at his new home and at that certain window in the second floor’s west wing.

“They’re here…”

A giggle.

“It’s gonna be hell this time…”

A sigh.

“Why don’t we make it worth their while?”

A chuckle.

“…”

Silence.

“They’re different…”

Cold lifeless fingers lay atop the window’s knob, gazing out at the young blond who’s now going back to his sedan, where his father is waiting for him.

“Heh… I think it’ll be fun this time.”

A malicious grin.

TBC