Highschool DXD: A True Dragon Rises.
Ch. 1 Life's Trial by Fire
I do not own Highschool DXD
Ichiei Ishibumi does.
Positive reviews are welcome
Ch. 1 Going to Japan
In a single floor, light cream colored house with two garage doors, the sound of punching could be heard as a 16 going on 17 year old male with black, trimmed hair and brown eyes, wearing only a pair of black boxers with silver stripes on the outside and inner thighs of the said shorts.
His name was Mark Barrett. With his hands taped as were his feet and ankles, he struck at his Century XXL Training Bag. He stood at a defensive position, his body height being 5'11 with an average build for a young man his age.
Sweat had been gleaming off his body since he had been going at the bag for just over an hour. He was hopping on his balls of his feet, taped as they were om both heel and around the Achilles tendon for balance as he repeatedly attacked the punching bag with both fists.
He took a step back and kicked out with his left leg followed by his right leg. The double kick was soon followed up once more with a spinning backhand and then a foot as he jumped up, lashing out with a side high kick.
The young man stopped as he had to take in huge gulps of air, his breathing being heavy due to the intense workout he had initiated just over an hour before. His heart was pumping massive amounts of blood and oxygen at an extreme rate in order to keep up with the heavy breaths emanating from his lungs. He stepped forward to grab and stop the bag from swinging outward as he closed his eyes. He had to embrace the training bag tightly as painful images came to the forefront of his mind.
The images were memories of someone in whom he was at one point in time very close to. Someone in whom he loved very dearly with all of his heart. Despite the sweat running from the brow of his forehead and face, he forced himself to look to his right, as sitting on a pedestal that hung on a wall within his training room, was a picture of a young couple in love, both of whom were posing in a loving embrace.
Her name was Katey. Katherine 'Katey' Donovan. Her father was ex-Navy like his father before him, and his father before him as well. He had ties going all the way back to Hawaii.
Her Great Grandfather served as an Navy Officer both during and after Pearl Harbor, in which most of the family stayed in Kauai, Hawaii. Katie's father on the other hand had decided to venture out and moved back to the country, laying down roots in Iowa.
On her Great Grandmothers side of the family on the other hand, were roots extending a bit further, namely Boston, Massachusetts and Northern Ireland.
Katie was a beautiful girl with a dark shade of long brunette hair, an amazingly shapely figure in all the right places with eyes like the bluest pearls that if possible, would cut through diamond.
It was said once as a joke by her father, that the Gods of Hawaii had blessed the Donovan family for their defending the Island from the Japanese during their run on Pearl Harbor. They had stayed there for so long they had practically been adopted by the natives and had adapted to the Native Culture of the Islands.
She was something special, and once more, Mark had to watch as within his own mind, Katie's life had been robbed of her due to a hit and run driver who didn't bother to pay attention to the road, and then fled before the Local Law Enforcement could arrive alongside Fire Fighters and Paramedics.
Mark remembered as both hung upside down within her new truck, both harnessed thanks to their seat belts, but the driver had hit the truck from the driver side, glass and pieces of metal flying inward and about the cabin of the vehicle as it made to roll and slide along the gravel pavement that was the road.
More flashes followed as Mark remembered how he fought and struggled to awaken. Blinking eyes that at first could not focus. Blurred images and loud voices and sounds pummeled his at then sensitive hearing alongside a high pitched ringing.
"KK...KK...-Ka-Katey..." he coughed out as blood began to seep into his vision when he began to turn his hurting head. "Ka-Kate..."
When he finally managed to turn his head, no matter how painful it was to do so, he saw that she was unconscious, or at least so it appeared from his point of view.
"Kate?!" he whispered in horror as like him, she too hung upside down with her arms hung limply in the air, her knuckles brushing the inner undercarriage of the vehicle. He hurt so much, even hung upside down, he couldn't move. The pain was excruciating. Even to the point that he couldn't remain conscious.
Things seemed to happen fast as the images were of being pulled helplessly from the upturned truck as he had not even noticed the door being ripped open. Arms and then a head and body came into view as they aided him by undoing his belt and catching him as he fell.
On the drivers side, another unknown individual was doing the same for his girlfriend.
Time seemed to come and go as he blacked out when his last memory was of reaching out for her as he was removed from the damaged truck.
Eventually, he finally came to after many more memories of various seconds of real time from small memory flashes of the truck, to the good Samaritans who saved him, to flashing overhead lights passing over him, men and women in light green face and barrier face masks while wearing blue medical suits.
More flashes came of bloodied hands and blood stained surgical tools followed by more blackouts until he finally awoke two weeks after the surgery.
His parents had been alerted when a nurse had walked in and saw that he had finally came to.
They were the ones who told him about what had happened. What's worse, was that the love of his life was gone. And in her place, was her heart where his had failed.
He trembled as he remembered being told how her parents consented for her life giving organ to be given to him as though she was gone, she would not want him to die when he still had a chance to live. What was a coincidence, was that their blood was compatible enough for the transplant to take place as she had at one point in time enlisted as an organ donor, a fact that he was ignorant about. He'd then learned that he had died several times when her organ replaced his failing heart in order to save him.
Despite the successful transplant of his lost loves heart, it had pained him tremendously. To be informed that the woman in whom he one day propose to and marry, was gone. He remembered crying and then screaming out, wanting to deny what his new heart was telling him as he fought violently to remove the wires from his chest, tearing the hospital gown that covered a percentage of his body.
His parents, Doctors, and Nurses had to restrain him when one of the Doctors called for one of the nurses to get something he could not remember. He had even tried to rip the bandages sticking to his chest off, but his parents and the people holding him down would not allow it.
Then came the prickling sensation as a needle was injected into his arm and a sedative had been released into his bloodstream, calming him down a minute later, until finally, he fell under once more.
That had been over a year and a half ago. The one responsible had been caught, but not for lack of trying as he had alluded the police for a bit of time, well after Katey's funeral that left Mark feeling empty inside. The only thoughts running throughout his mind was vengeance.
Mark had taken a personal interest in hunting down the man who stole Katey Donovan from him, only to finally corner him at a pier near Indian Creek months later.
It took his considerable abilities and aggressive negotiating to get the information he needed once he knew who to look for. People, even some Law Enforcement when nearby loved to talk. Once he had a name and knew what the man who took his girl from him looked like, he made it his life goal to hunt him down personally.
The guy had been alluding the Police and others for some time when Mark found him. Despite Katie's father trying to talk him down from going after the man who had stolen the love of his life, Mark wasn't a man who just sat back and did nothing, letting people do for him what he couldn't do for himself.
Late Evening after sundown
Nick Cecil was a desperate man. The wooden building concealing the pier was surrounded by dense fog. The nights creatures were loud as the nights only light shined down from above the darkened sky filled with countless stars.
The barn-like pier hid a motorized boat that sent ripples in the water as Calloway was currently stuffing bags of necessities, clothes, food, water with quick haste. The last thing he had to grab was the few bits of fuel in hand when a voice stopped him, causing him to pause and look up as a body stood in the entryway of the pier, the body darkened by the silhouette of the moons light.
"CECIL..." it hollered out in a loud, hoarse tone.
Releasing the plastic fuel canisters slowly, rising to his full height as he looked at the darkened body standing between him and his freedom.
With his hands at his sides, fingers splayed to show that he was unarmed, the man moved a step or two away from the canisters. "How did you find me?"
The darkened visage didn't answer. From the point of view of which he stood, a hand moved into sight revealing a chain looped several times over in a single grip.
"You here to kill me?"
"You took everything from me."
"So what? You're here to act as my judge, jury, and executioner?" Cecil scoffed. Looking at the chain and thinking of a plan he then said, "Do you think you got the guts to kill me?"
"I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to take your life." came a snarled response.
"Really? he snarked, "Then what are you waiting for? COME ON!" He hollered as he then charged the figure who did not hesitate to charge himself as the figure swung the chain upon drawing near.
Cecil sidestepped the swing, the chain missing him entirely, allowing him to swing back with a closed fist, the back of which caught his pursuer in the side of the face as the momentum of the backhanded tactic caught his pursuer unaware.
The blow caused him to spin around uncontrollably, his back slamming into a wooden wall. Disoriented, the chains dropped from his grasp. His vision, blurred as it were, was not impaired enough that he at least saw the punch coming towards his face.
He moved his head to the side, allowing the blow to miss and hit the wall behind him.
"AUGH..."screamed the fugitive, holding his hand, no doubt broken while Mark took a moment to gather himself. He wasted no time as he screamed and plowed into his quarry. Picking him up after lacing his arms around the mans torso, he then proceeded to slam him into the floorboards, a resounding 'CRACK' clearly heard as both bodies Cecils back first, struck down hard upon the wooden beams beneath their feet. Both tumbled to the floor, scrambling to gain the advantage over the other as they began rolling upon the wooden flooring. It was a battle of attrition as the heavier combatant was able to gain the advantage and sit atop of the other in a straddling position, with Mark beneath the man he hated. Both tried to choke the other with their hands grasping each others necks, but Cecil was much bigger and stronger, thus forcing Mark.
Try as he might, the young man could not get the other man off of him let alone use his legs as leverage to at least push him back, thus loosening his hold on his throat.
As the darkness threatened his vision, it was flashes of his memory that fueled his strength, feeding his inner rage and anger as his eyes widened and with a final roar, allowed him to slam his arms on Cecils inner arms.
He didn't stop there as he followed it up with a knee to the mans groin. The pain and loss of air that Cecil was currently feeling allowed Mark a reprieve in order to catch his breath. With the most hated man now in a raised position and grasping his family jewels, the now enraged teen struck out at the mans solar plexus. He then grabbed the mans shirt and quickly brought him down, using his own tucked in head to smash the mans now bleeding nose and loosening some teeth that flew out of the mans bloody mouth.
The now bleeding man quickly stumbled to his feet holding his mouth and nose. Mark had to pause as he needed to collect a bit more air in order to continue fighting, as his coughing could attest to.
Rolling to his side and then fighting to rise to his feet, the teen looked to Nick Cecil and charged again with another fierce roar as the mans eyes widened at the teen, still aching to fight.
He was in no position to move as he was hit head on and thrown off his feet into a wall, the air being knocked from his lungs. He was able to remain on his feet and yet blows began to hit the right side of his face, causing his head to whip to the side with each punch.
After what he felt was a fourth head turning punch, he caught the teen unawares as he blocked a fifth punch with his good arm, only to rain down a thunderous blow of his own that knocked the teen to the floor.
Said teen could only groan in pain as blood seeped from a now bleeding mouth.
"Thought you were going to take my life, you said, hmm!?" he said as he allowed the boy to crawl about the floor. Try as he might, Mark was only able to get to his hands and knees before the air left his lungs as a powerful boot connected with his stomach. He curled in on himself, holding his stomach.
"You know, normally I wouldn't drag out a kill, but for you,...I'm willing to make an exception,..."
Mark managed to raise his head somewhat as his eyes then fixed on a familiar set of linked metal loops, his hand only inches from the chain he brought with him.
Managing to turn onto his front as if to attempt to get to his hands and knees once more, he listened as his head looked down between legs seeing that Cecil was in a position that would allow him to sweep the man off his feet.
"I'd have to say, you sure gave as good if not better of a fight than I thought you were able to. Do me a favor, will yah? Tell your old lady, this ones for her."
At this, Mark with a burst of strength, swept his legs and feet into the air for a spinning leg sweep. The move enabled him to sweep the mans feet from the floor.
He didn't stop moving as he finished the spin as he propelled himself into a standing position. Grabbing the chain from the floor, he ran to and looped the chain around the mans neck, in his clouded sense of hate and rage that fed him greater strength, he was bound to pull as he looped the chain twice more around the mans throat.
Nick Cecil, try as he might, could not remove the metal rope from his neck. His heart was hammering as the life precious air within his lungs was dwindling.
Mark on the other hand was elsewhere, not seeing the lights of people whom had entered the pier shack and laid eyes on the broken teen, one step away from murder. All had shouted for him to 'Stop' or to 'Release' the man whose life was now held in his hands. And suddenly, when all seemed lost and guns were raised about to bring death to the teen, an Ethereal presence in the form of wispy displaced air flowed through and around the people who was a hairs breath away from unleashing their weapons ammo into the night.
The anguished teen had the power, the right, nothing else mattered. But damn it if he didn't have to look as she was suddenly there.
Her hand appearing like that of a wisp of flowing mist that glowed an otherworldly light that then took on a human form into that of a glowing visage. His head turned as her eyes fell upon his own.
The grip upon the chains began to weaken. By then, he'd fallen to his knees as he lost the strength to stand.
Mark hugged the bag tighter as the memory of that night continued to plague his mind as he remembered looking upon her as she stepped into his field of vision from his right side, to kneeling before him, resting both of her hands on the top of his own.
Her eyes pleaded with him to not do it as he forgot for just a moment, what it was he was doing as he unconsciously let go of the chains, the linked metal slipping from his fingers and looked upon her with shock.
No one dared move as her spirit smiled and placed a hand upon the heart that once beat for her. She was a glowing yet heavenly sight to behold as she wore only what appeared to be a satin sleeveless dress that fell to just over her bare ankles and feet.
With her other hand, she softly touched his cheek as his mouth hung open. "Katey?" he said. She could only smile as she then rose up, her lips brushing over his own.
She then rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes as if to listen at the strength of her heart that now beat as his own.
When his hand made to touch her hair so as to hold her, if only for a moment, she vanished into wisps within the air until the glow died down and all that remained was the blackness of the night as well as the glow of the moon and the flashlights of those who had witnessed the impossible. The boy though, was left for just barely a moment, grasping air as his body began to shake, his sobbing clearly heard as both his father and Katey's own made to kneel beside him on either side and held him as the pain of her departure was clearly evident.
His father and Mr. Donovan together raised him up from where he had then fallen and curled in on himself, his body shaking as his spirit was very much in agony.
Days had passed as the Police refused to press charges against him, instead having taken Nick Cecil, the man that had taken Katey's life, into custody. He had pleaded guilty, if only to keep somewhere where he thought he would be safe, but is any prison truly safe in this day and age for those who harm the young and refuse to accept the punishment for the crime.
On the day of what would have been her 17th Birthday, the skies mourned. They had clouded over darkly and wept as Mark stood before her grave, only several feet from her tombstone. His hair had grown out to just touching his shoulders as the rain caused the front strands of hair to fall to just over his eyes.
He'd been there since just after sunrise before the clouds set in. A single white rose in his hand. It hung loosely in his right hand. Time had passed as when he finally came out of his stupor, the memories of the more enjoyable moments they had spent together since they were children came and went.
As the rain came down upon him, both his parents and the Donovans stood back several feet near a nearby tree, both fathers holding umbrellas over themselves and their wives.
A black car pulled up. A woman was helped out by her husband who held out an umbrella for her, closing the door as she stepped away from the said car. A young brunette male teen stepped out of the right passenger side of the car. Like his parents, out of respect for the dead, he was dressed in all in black with a white shirt and black tie.
The couple and apparent son all had an Asian quality look about them, much like Marks mother, as they gradually approached the two couples who stood in place watching the heartbreaking scene before them.
The tombstone was a simple rectangular brick of quality Quartzite or something thereof. A depiction of an Angel flying into the Heavens clear as day. An epitaph revealing her Birthdate and day of passing as well as her name was the first things revealed. Below them, the Epitaph read 'Daughter and Beloved Friend'.
He took a few moments more to look at the Quartzite with all the details upon before he then walked up to it on its right, knelt down and laid the white rose gently before the brick as he looked numbly at it.
"Happy Birthday Katey Donovan. I love you."
A minute or two passed before he rose and turned. He quickly began to head towards his own vehicle. It was a Honda VTX 1300 Stateline motorcycle that he had worked hard to earn. From allowances to odd jobs, he had earned plenty a dollar in order to buy the bike of his dreams, a bike he had intended to share with her.
Now that day would never come.
Starting the bike once he was on, he turned a dripping wet head of hair in the direction of where his and Katey's family now congregated, including his mothers family from Japan who had decided to visit as a means of paying their respects and aiding the family at a time when it was needed most.
His eyes fell on them for barely a second before falling once more on Katey's grave.
Turning back to the front of the bike, he slipped the key into the ignition and turned. Pressing the startup button, the bikes motor came to life. He then gathered the black helmet from where it rested and slipped it on. He revved the engine twice before bringing up the kickstand. The bike then took off at a sedate pace as he guided it out of the cemetery.
It is said, that time heals all wounds, it never stated the actual amount of time that a heart needed in order to heal. The amount of heavy breathing being let out as Mark held onto the bag as his eyes gazed wantonly upon the still photo, trained upon the lone female figure that resided in it. It was only a week since the Donovans returned to their family back in Hawaii.
The family thought that it best to return home to the islands, so much so that despite the fact that she was already resting, Kate's casket was exhumed and flown back to the island of Kauai. She would be laid to rest a second time among her ancestors.
Mark was not happy about this, nor was his family, but it was out of their hands. The Donovans were long gone now. Katey's former resting place now filled in, waiting to be used by another when the time came.
The broken teen cut all ties with the family despite the history they shared, all of the great memories since childhood.
It was at this time when as he finally got his second wind and began to swing his taped fists once more into the punching bag that his father walked in.
He could tell his son had been at this for some time. He walked around the room, remembering all the fond memories he and his family had with this room, until his son had turned it into his personal gym following Katey's death.
Seeing her picture, sitting on the pedestal, he sighed tirelessly with his head shaking, then looked to his boy, "Hey kid, you're all fucked up, aren't ya?"
Not getting a response, he continued, "You know we're moving back to your mothers home in Japan!? So why don't you break this shit down and go wash up."
His sons punches were getting heavier, the bag swaying outward as he was getting lost with the rage inside once more.
"I know you miss her son. Hell, we all do, but she is long gone. None of us will ever be able to see her again. You got to let her go." He was still being ignored as his son kept pushing himself, his body red with perspiration all over his face, chest, and arms.
"Come on son, let's go."
"You can leave anytime you want to." Mark said as he paused to look at the man that he called a father. He was tiring, he knew this, but his anger was the only motivator that pushed him beyond his limits. It was the only thing that kept him going.
"Oh son." his father said mournfully. He stepped around the other side of the bag, running both hands through both sides of his own head in order to stave off the headache that was sure to hit him soon, "You don't need this."
"Don't tell me what I need. If you want to go, go. Get the fuck out of here and leave me alone." his son growled out as he threw a jab and then a heavy punch at the bag.
"Yeah, you're right. I ought to stop telling you what to do. Maybe I ought to kick your ass."
"Motherfu-..."he got out when he swung a punch at his father, a punch that was caught in an a now closed palm.
Looking into his sons eyes, the emotional turmoil had reached its peak, and even now, his son had begun to realize exactly what he had done, the way it could have gone but didn't, "No, you don't want to do this. Let me tell you something and I want you to listen, you taught me as much as I ever taught you. You taught me how to be a better father." he could see the rage beginning to dissipate in his boys eyes. "I love you son. When you're ready..." he left the rest unsaid as he dropped the taped fist
Leaving the make shift gym/ training room, he entered the main housing that was undergoing a transformation all of its own as everything in the house was being boxed for transport. Everything would be transported by boat. Of course there was so much to take that it would take at least a total of three shipping containers to carry back to Japan.
"How is he?" his mother Le Mei asked worriedly when her husband walked into the kitchen as dinner was being prepared. Pulling a wine glass from the wrack just above the island, his wife sighing in anxiety, took the liberty of grabbing a bottle of red wine. Uncorking it, she proceeded to pour herself a generous amount before replacing the cork and laying the bottle to rest before her and her family.
"Hurting." her husband replied as he accepted a bottle of beer from his brother in-law, "Thanks." he said as he nodded at the man who nodded in return.
Sitting down at the table, Clint Barrett sat down at the island, a green smooth jade colored marble flat surface held in place by a wooden frame with doors for inner cabinets in which to store personal kitchen items and supplies.
"Maybe this is a bad time to bring this up, but we've been thinking that maybe its for the best that this move be good for Mark. It's been so long since Issei has had a chance to be around his cousin." Gorou Hyoudou said as his wife stood beside him on his left.
"We think that being in Japan can help heal Mark. New school, meeting new people. I-er...we hope in time, Mark will finally be able to let go of the girls ghost and let her spirit rest without all the pain he feels in their heart."
Rubbing the back of his neck with a weathered sigh, the patriarch of the Barrett family replied, "I hope you're right, because right now, I'm at a loss with that boy. I know he misses her and I know he needs to let her go. I hope this move is the right step towards a new life for him and us, because if it isn't, I don't know what we'd do if it all was for nothing."
Issei Hyoudou was listening to his parents, aunt, and uncle as they continued speaking about his cousin Mark and the move to Kuoh Town, while he hid on against the wall adjacent from the kitchen entryway leading into the main stairwell leading to the second floor. It was an ok house. But Issei preferred his home in Kuoh Town.
But right now, his cousin needed him more than he needed his own comfort.
Having learned about all that Mark had endured, the personal loss and pain of carrying the heart of his lost love within him.
Issei was a pervert at heart, he knew this, but even he knew that acting the part around his cousin would be a bad idea. He'd need to tread carefully. He was broken out of his thoughts as the sound of a door with worn hinges creaked open broke him from his reverie as the person on everyone's mind walked in from another door.
He stopped as he and Issei took a moment to lock eyes. Mark had the right hand still taped while in the process of unwinding the tape from his left hand. His top half was naked and red from perspiration, a towel hanging from his shoulders and partially covering his head.
The Barrett teen was shredded as was expected of those who trained in the various sports, bearing a six pack for a guy just under 5'11. Both cousins looked upon one another, Issei being the most nervous while Mark showed no outward emotion.
"He-Hey Mark...how yo..." the somewhat younger and smaller cousin got out when the much bigger one looked away and ventured up the stairs.
His right hand hung in the air while the other was in his pocket. Dropping said hand, he turned and leaned against the wall, his head hanging low as his dark hair covered his eyes in shadow. 'It's going to be a long few months.' he thought to himself.
This is the beginning of a new story. No crossover, but something new. Not sure if it's ever been done before. Not going to have my OC act a fool like Issei, to be honest, was never a big fan of the character and hated how he acted towards the female characters, especially Asia. So, give me your honest opinion and the next chapter for my Kamen Rider/Young Justice should be up in a day a two. Please, be kind. Until next time.