IchigoKulric wrote:日記グリム刈り取りの -The Grim Reaper's Diary


バラの花びらを、天のスライス- Petals of a rose, a slice of heaven

THESE ENTRIES ARE MY PROPERTY. ANYTHING I COPY/PASTE I WILL NOTIFY ON THE POST IF IT IS NOT MINE, AND WHERE I RECIEVED THE INFORMATION.
ALSO, REICHIGO'S THOUGHTS/ENTRIES ARE IN HERE ONLY TO LET THE READERS UNDERSTAND WHAT WAS GOING ON IN THOSE MOMENTS WITH BOTH BROTHERS.

THE STORY ENTRIES START WHERE DARK IS 8 YEARS OLD, AND WILL REFLECT MANY MOMENTS IN EACH BROTHER'S PAST.

LET IT BEGIN.



1986-

I have to write this down. My thoughts are wild. I have survived this long, but not without struggle. I may be 8, but I sense something in me, something that is growing continually. It's been three years, I've felt this pain. I can't control it anymore. It's bitterness is sucking the life from me.
My dad, my mother... I wonder if they hate me? I wonder if mom's illness is gone. I remember my mother...

*********

REFLECTION: (1983---5 years old)
"Dark, what is it, my son?"
My mother, so beautiful, gentle, and strong, even with her confounded illness.
She looks down at me and pats my wet silky head.
"Some people wur picking on me again." I sniffed, rubbing a stream of rain off my face.
"Oh, darling. Was it Kartmen again?"
I nodded, then broke into sobs and flung myself into my mother's chest. She soothed me, calmed me down, until she started coughing. Her long dark purple hair flew in front of her pale face. I always thought my mother looked like a doll, a porcelin one. The expensive kind.
She finally stopped coughing again and then spoke. "Dark, I need to tell you something, sweetheart."
I looked up at her as she brushed my hair with our ebony comb. I closed my eyes. Mother always brushed my hair every night. I loved it. Treasured these moments.
"Your father and I are planning to have another baby."
And so my world fell away."

********

I ran away that night when she mentioned the baby. And later, I'll return.

-Dark






1990-(13 years old, beginning of Jan.)-

I finally returned to my home. It's been 5 years since I last wrote my thoughts down, and I'm afraid I just have to now.
Turns out Mother wasn't lying when she said her and Dad were gonna have another kid.
I have a brother. He's 7 right now, and it's in January. They celebrated his birthday on December 21st, and they still haven't told him about me. Are they ashamed of me? I can't return now. They have Reichigo.
Reichigo...that name I spit on.

***********
REFLECTION: (1990---13 years old--Dec.21st)

Quietly I snuck to the back window in the backyard. I peered through it, and saw my parents. My mother, still in bed, and looking like a ghost with her pale skin and white hair. Her sickness is going to take her soon.
Then my father, cold-looking, tall, and...smiling? He never smiles. Well, not when I was around.
And then I gasped. A small boy around 5 or 6, was opening presents.
"Happy 6th birthday, darling!" my mother cries happily.
Dad grins. "Well, go on, open them."
The boy, with his golden bangs and jet black spikes in his hair happily progresses.
He gets a pocket watch, from the military that father used to work for. It was his old pocket watch.
My eyes narrow. That should have been mine.
I didn't stay around after that, instead I stomped away, punching or kicking anything in my way, hating my brother, Reichigo James Kulric with a passion.

**********

Later I came back, around March. My mother and father were dead. And Reichigo was gone...

***********
REFLECTION: (1991---13 years old-----March 19th)

I kicked my front door open, even though it was already slightly ajar. I looked around, angry, ready to speak out to my parents.
But my father was dead. A blade mark showed a wound still seeping blood from his chest.
I stood there, horrified, then I looked around, and realized the living room was a mess.
Had we been robbed? No, wait, had THEY been robbed?
I suddenly thought of my sick mother, and ran into her room.
That's when I fainted and fell into a pool of blood....my mother's blood.

When I awoke, I could hear police sirens coming towards the house. It was dark, but I already knew what I'd see if I looked at the bed.
Nothing but blood, and chunks of flesh everywhere. Someone, or something, had completely destroyed my mother. Like she blew up, her flesh flying, and the cream-colored walls were now splattered with a crimson red.

I let out a scream and tore away from the nightmare, and past my dead father, and out into the backyard. I climbed up a tree, and then waited.

When the police arrived, and put up the caution lines, I listened as they reviewed the scene.
"They had a son, Reichigo Kulric, and I'm guessing he was either kidnapped or is..." the first cop started.
"No, you can't be serious, little Reichigo? I knew this family and they couldn't have been happier with him." said the second cop, a female, with shoulder-length cropped brown hair.
"Denise, I'm afraid we'll have to put up a search party for the boy. And once we find him, we'll contact any relative he has."
"Sir, he has no other family. It was just Mordukai and Lily. That's all he had..."
"Then I'm afraid we'll just have to question the poor boy."
Denise nodded, then went back into the house.
I sat there, crouching in the tree, shaking like one of the leaves it had, for winter was late, and it was still snowing out.
Suddenly the first cop looked up at my tree, and I quickly hid behind the leaves protection.
He walked toward me, eyeing my hiding spot, and I held by breath.
Minutes ticked by, and I was dying to get out of there.
"Mr. Otowayo!" cried a police man.
Mr. Otowayo looked away from me and at the man, who was barely 20.
"Yes, Con, what is it?" Mr. Otowayo asked, looking irritated.
"There's this man from next door claiming he saw Reichigo leave the house with some weirdo guys and he was holding a bloody sword!"
Mr. Otowayo obviously forgot about me, and ran to meet this man.
And obviously, Reichigo had killed my mother and father.
And he was going to pay...

************

I finally found Reichigo. He travels everywhere. And he always carries Kueta, dad's old sword. The sword is way too big for him, but he does it anyway. I watch him kill small animals, and then feast on them raw, just because he's so hungry.
I stay in the shadows, planning my beloved revenge.
-Dark



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
REICHIGO'S PAST (The Encounter)
1991-(6 years old)


As I carried the long heavy sword called Kueta, I staggered over the corpse of my father and trudged toward my mother's room.
Slowly, very slowly, I eased open the oak door.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" I screamed to the world. My mother was gone.
Blood soaked every crack in the wall. Flesh was all on the floor, on the ceiling, everywhere.
There was an outline of her frail body on the bed still.
I tripped over Kueta as I sobbed my eyes out. I cried so hard I made my own blood seep over my eyelids.
I fell onto the blood-soaked matress, and stared out into space, my mismatched eyes wide, and in terror. The right brownish-red one leaked the red liquid, and the left greenish-sky blue leaked my tears. The gold encircling both was now temporarily marron.
"Mom....." I whispered into the blood.
Silence.
Then, a loud crash at the door and a load of footsteps told me someone was coming.
I didn't care. I just layed there, horror-struck.
"Dammit, Mordukai's dead, Ranger!"
I heard the harsh voice coming from the living room. They'd found my father.
"He owed us!" snapped another voice, female.
"Hush, Martha." growled a third, the leader, I supposed.
"Ranger, what do you think happened? Suicide?"
"No." Ranger said. A moment, then, "Find the boy!"
My eyes widened as they crashed through the bedroom door, and grabbed my by the hair and yanked my head back, making me gasp.
"He's not dead, Ranger."
"Let me see, Tomo, you're making it difficult."
Tomo, who was grasping me, turned my head ruffley to face a man who was about 7 feet tall, with a clean-shaven face and greying buzz-cut hair.
The woman behind him was snooping around my mother's room, trying not to touch the blood.
"So, you're not dead then, Kulric? What happened here, son?" He kneeled down in front of me, and then grabbed my small chin roughly with his overly-large hand. His smile was kind but his eyes were full of hatred.
I glared at him back.
"Did you kill your mummy and daddy?" He made a sort-of-kiddish voice, which made me sneer at him.
"G-g-g-o t-t-t-to h-hell, ol-l-l-d ma-an..." I stuttered, still in shock.
The truth was, I couldn't remember how to speak, not really anyway.
The man steared and slapped me full in the face.
I staggered, but Tomo held me up. I let out a wale, and immediatly started crying.
"Shut him up!" Martha yelled and flung out a bat that she held and it smacked into my face, and I knew no more...
***********
When I awoke, I was strapped down on a blood-stained board, my arms and feet cuffed to it. Chains rattled as I moved, and I peered around the cold room.
I realized it was a dungeon.
"Wha--?" I whispered into the darkness.
"The boy's awake, Ranger." The voice startled me. It was Tomo's.
"Good." Ranger came out from the shadows with a lit candle in hand. The flame cast new and eerie shadows on his gaunt face. He was at the end of my table, and he gave the candle to Martha.
She placed it on a end-table to my right. Then she looked and glared at me with ice blue eyes.
"Reichigo, my son, do you know of any other relative you have?" My gaze turned once more to Ranger.
"N-no." I managed to say. I felt a large lump on my forhead, along with the other wounds Da had given me before I---
"Do you know where your mummy and daddy puts their money?" Ranger continued.
I thought, then shook my head.
"Pity." Ranger looked like he was thinking, and he rubbed his bristly chin, and I noticed he also had ice blue eyes, (but MUCH icier) and they were staring at me like I was lying.
He suddenly nodded to Tomo, who suddenly lunged at me.
I let out a shriek as he pludged his fist into my stomach.
Blood splurted from my mouth, flying in all directions.
"Ah!" shouted Martha, "You little pest!" She raised her hand to slap me, but Ranger suddenly held up one of his large hands.
Martha lowered jers immediatly.
"What d-d-do you w-want?" I stammered to the man.
"Money. Women. To be respected. What any man wants, Kulric." The elderly man responded.
I gulped back blood and my stomach almost didn't take it.
"Did you know your daddy owed us a lot of money, Reichigo? Did you know that he told us, a few days before now, that you, Reichigo, killed a ton of people with this famous alchemy that runs through your family's blood? I need to know...can you use alchemy without a transmutation circle like your daddy?" "
My eyes widened. I was confused and terrified. But then I slowly shook my head.
"Well, we're not very happy about it. You and your father killed some of my men. Are you sure you can't do alchemy without a transmutation circle, boy?"
I couldn't speak, I was utterly shocked at how a man could think a kid as young as I am could kill people. And I didn't know what he was getting at with this 'no transmutation circle' thing.
"No matter." Ranger suddenly said. "We will solve the manner with a little loosening up."
Ranger snapped at Martha, who nodded and drew out a long, black whip.
I gulped, fear engulfed me.
The whip came down and I heard a loud TWACK! and new it had hit me. I felt the sting rise all the way up to my brain, and it sent the message.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" I shrieked at the top of my lungs.
They continued on until what felt like forever, then I blacked out.

When I awoke, it must have been way later, because I didn't hear anyone near me.
I screamed myself awake, and opened my blood-filled eyes. I couldn't see anything besides red.
"HELP!" I croaked, but it sounded more like 'BLEP!' because of blood that oozed out of my lips.
I hurt. I hurt SO bad. I couldn't hardly move, because if I did, I'd rip open the newly made wounds.
I spit out a mouthful of the vile liquid, and then pulled at the cuffs around my tiny wrists.
I wondered then where they had Kueta.
Suddenly I got an idea. Could both my hands touch? I pulled my arms together as close as they could, and then my pointer fingers touched.
Would it be enough?
There was a flash of bright blue light and then my hands were free.
I immediatly went to my ankles and unbuckled the leather cuffs. I jumped down, and then fell back down. My body was terribly weak. I had to get out of here.
I stood up, wobbling, and rubbed the blood out of my eyes. Now that I could see, I wish I couldn't. Just looking at my wounds made me want to perdge.
But I trudged toward the towering metal door and tried the handle.
Locked. Of course.
I cursed under my breath, then thought about using alchemy.
No, not now. I thought. Have to try something else. I looked around the damp dark dungeon and found a vent high above.
It was very high compared to a six year old.
I sighed with disbelief, but then a thought struck me.
I could use alchemy to get up there, at least.
I walked until I was directly under it, then slapped my hands together and slammed them into the cobblestone ground. The stones shifted and shaped into a long ladder that rose all the way up to the vent.
Perfect.
I started to climb, every inch of my body screaming as I ascended the poorly made stone ladder. I reached the vent and pulled at the bars.
The cover came free. I climbed in and started to crawl forward, pulling my legs in behind me.
***
As I crawled, I tried not to make to much sound, but it was getting harder and harder to breathe. A few mice scurried past me, and I froze. But they were harmless, and just passing through. Like me, the murderer.

***
Finally I found another vent, and was about to open it when I heard voices. I ducked under the vent's screen and then slightly peered over it.
It was Ranger and Martha arguing.
"How are we going to make the boy talk?" Ranger roared.
"I don't know sir, he doesn't seem to know anything." Martha was shakey and looked rather pale.
"He'd better know. He could lead us to Mordukai's hidden vault."
"But Mordukai could have been lying about the whole thing! What if it's not real? What if there is no vault?"
"There has to be! There's millions in there!" Ranger snarled.
"But what if--"
"SHUT THE HELL UP!" Ranger yelled and then slapped Martha full in the face. She staggered then fell down, clutching her dark red cheek.
Suddenly I saw Kueta in the far corner of the room. My eyes narrowed with determination.
"GET UP!" Ranger roared and grabbed a sobbing Martha by the hair and dragged her out. I heard a 'click' of a lock and realized they had locked the room. But why? Because of Kueta?
I took the chance and then opened the vent and then, with hesitation, jumped down to the soft red velvet carpet. I winced and collapsed onto it, clutching my burning scars. "Ow..." I muttered. My legs started to shake uncontrollably. But I gritted my teeth and got up slowly, making way toward Kueta.
All of a sudden there was another 'click' at the white marble door, and I lunged for a nearby oak closet. I swung the heavy doors almost shut and then held my breath.
Tomo came into the luxurious room and slammed the door shut. He made way toward Kueta.
I gasped with despair, then clamped my hand around my mouth, eyes wide.
Tomo swung around, glaring at my closet.
Damn, I thought, I'm done for.
Tomo charged towards me, but then suddenly there was an outburst in the hall. I looked at the door, half expecting a whole army of darkness to come and grab me.
"HE'S GONE! WHERE IS HE?!" Ranger howled from outside.
Tomo turned and ran out of the room, leaving the door ajar.
Now was my chance.
I kicked the closet door open and jumped out, grabbed Kueta, and ran out into the hall.
I noticed no one was in the hall…it was deserted.
I looked left, then right, and chose to go left, sprinting down the corridor and came to a staircase. I descended the steps, almost tripping twice and as I reached the bottom floor, I heard voices.
I held my breath, and then slapped my hands together and touched my stomach.
Immediately I was invisible. However I didn’t know how long it would last.
“How could you let the boy escape?”
That was Ranger’s voice. And he sounded VERY mad…
I gulped, still standing frozen on the red velvet carpet.
“I’m sorry, sir. He couldn’t have gotten far.” Martha bit her lip as it she wasn’t sure of herself.
“He better not be out of this house already.”
Martha just nodded.
I noticed some large white onyx doors were behind them…possibly the front entrance?
I hoped so… because I took one step forward and the spell wore off.
“GET HIM!” Ranger yelled at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing around the lobby.
“Dammit!” I swore under my breath, and lunged for the door.
As I opened the huge doors, I squealed as Tomo took me by the scruff of my shirt, and made me face Ranger.
“What do you think you’re doing, lad?” He asked, suddenly in a Scottish accent I’d never heard him speak.
I kept my mouth shut.
The seriousness of his eyes scared me. He looked calm, but something felt very, very wrong…
I found out within the hour…

I was back onto my table, hands at my sides, and still firmly buckled.
I shook with fear, and hoped that they wouldn’t see.
Ranger and Tomo were whispering quietly at the end of the table, and Martha was leering over me, eyes almost evil.
I gulped, feeling something very bad was about to happen.
I was right, because Tomo nodded to Ranger then walked over to me and slammed his fist into my stomach.
Again, blood splurged from my mouth, and I coughed, desperately trying to breathe.
Martha punched my jaw, and I heard a small ‘crack’, and cried out.
“Where is the money, Kulric?” Ranger asked, his arms crossed, and looked like he didn’t care at all.
I couldn’t answer, my jaw hurt too much, plus there was too much to choke on.
“WHERE IS THE MONEY!?” he roared.
Tomo slammed his giant fist into my throat.
Red dots danced in front of my sight, and more of the sticky red liquid pour from my mouth like I was some kind of fountain.
“Well, now he won’t be able to talk, thanks, Tomo.” Ranger growled, but otherwise seemed okay about it.
Good for him.
I crunched up my body, having no help with my limbs tied down, but I tried to hide myself. I was pathetic. I couldn’t do anything.
Were there any transmutations that you could do with one hand?
But I was too tired to figure out how to draw the transmutation circle, and I knew I was dying.
“Take his right arm. Martha, hold his head.” Ranger commanded, and Tomo and Martha obliged quickly.
Ranger undid the straps on my left ankle, and then held it in his grasp, a little too tight.
Tomo took my right arm by the shoulder and undid the strap on my wrist, then grasping it until it hurt and my hand went numb.
I bit my lip as Martha took hold of my head, her nails digging into my temples.
I whimpered, not sure what was happening.
Then, Ranger nodded at his associates, and suddenly Ranger and Tomo both pulled.
It was then I knew what they were doing, and I screamed like a banshee, even before the pain started.
I felt my right shoulder blade quiver against the force that was making it come loose.
My upper thigh bone started to crack and pull free, and my skin started ripping on both limbs.
I howled with agony, the pain too intense to describe in words.
“HELP MEEEEE!” I screeched to the ceiling, but I knew no one was listening. No one was coming to help me, and as my limbs were being torn off, I thought of my mother. How she help me through hard times. How I missed her smile and her touch.
I wanted my mother.
“MOOOOMMY!!” I wailed, tears leaking down into my gold bangs, which were now damp and crimson.
“WHERE IS THE MONEY, KULRIC?!” Ranger hardly screamed above me. He kept pulling and pulling, as did Tomo.
“I DON’T KNOW! STOP, PLEASE!” I screams were barely audible to the human ears anymore.
Now both my leg and arm bones were dislocated and the skin and muscles were ripping. They sounded like fabric being shredded; however this was much more painful.
“HEEEEEEELP!”
Martha had to dig her nails further into my head because I was writhing in anguish.
“How come he hasn’t fainted yet? Surely a six year old wouldn’t be able to bare such torture?!” Martha yelled to Ranger over my wails.
Ranger just shrugged, a smile playing on his lips, like it was his daily job to tear arms and legs off of young boys every god-damned day.
He gave a final tug and my left leg came free with a ‘riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip’.
I almost blacked out right then, but then I saw my right arm had only a few nerve strands to go.
I watched them snap, and then I lost all consciousness.
**
“What do we have here?!” came a voice, like a wraith.

WILL CONTINUE LATER!!





1992-(14 years old---Nov. 1st)


Yesterday was my birthday. It seems that I'm now 14, and Reichigo, 8. I've been spying on him for almost a whole year.
And he never sees me.

************
REFLECTION (1992---13 years old-----August)
There he is. Eight year old Reichigo.
I watch from a tree branch, high up above him. It's raining, and it's cold. I hope he's freezing.
"I should kill him now..." I thought to myself.
Below, Reichigo slashed at my tree with Kueta. "I WANNA DIE! I WANNA DIE!" he kept screaming.
Poor little boy... he's finally blamming himself for our parents' deaths.
"Just kill yourself." I whispered harshly.
He stopped hacking and looked up, his mismatched eyes all watery from tears and the rain. "Huh?" he whispered.
I, alarmed, climbed up further.
But Reichigo didn't pay anymore attention to me. He started coughing furiously and doubled over. He klutched Kueta with both hands...one was...metal?
I didn't have time to think about it.
Suddenly there was a bright blue flash of light, and then there was a small fire in front of Reichigo.
"What the hell?" I thought, and peered down to get a better look.
It was indeed a small fire, but how could he have made one so quick. Did he have a match? Or a lighter?
No, he didn't.
Did Kueta have some sort of bizzare power?
No...
So what could it be?
"Oh!" I gasped, figuring it out, but immediatly shut my mouth, but Reichigo was still coughing, so he hadn't heard my outcry.
"Renkinjutsu..." I thought. He made the fire with alchemy.
I sneered down at him. How stupid... to combine materials to make another.
How pathetic can he get? And what was with that metal hand?
I swore I would never do alchemy...but... something in me was shifting again.
Something inhuman...

***********

I did my first transmutation today. I made a stick turn into, well, a stick. But it was a different type of wood. I turned the little thing from cottonwood, to pine.
I can't believe it. Why did I do that? I guess I was tempted. Reichigo's so good at it, I just had to.
Too bad about cottonwood stick.
But I made it into pine... how...exilerating! I think I'll try more, but only when Reichigo's asleep. I can't risk him seeing me.
I think I might go to the next town tomorrow. I'll get some books on alchemy and do some research...
-Dark



1992-(13 years old)


Alchemy is so facinating. I'm doing so much research on the history and process of it that I'm dying to go back to the local library. I read some scripts talking about transmutation circles, and also something called a 'Philosopher's Stone'. It is said that if you have the Stone, it makes you immortal. It sounds like a bunch of bull, but I'm not gonna ignore it.


*************

REFLECTION: (13 years old-----September)OOC: Found on: http://www.alchemyhomestudy.com/library ... emists.pdf


" New Acropolis - The Inner Gold of the Alchemists
start seeing things clearly in those regions and our control over them becomes perfect: we can work on them as easily as a sculptor can work on stone.
So the alchemist does the same: he seeks the root of matter, the "Prima Materia" (an invisible and
formless matter on the most subtle plane of nature) and out of this, through a long and painstaking process
he forms what is known as "the Philosopher's Stone", a (physical?) object with apparently
miraculous, transformative and healing properties. With this Stone, or Tincture, he can transmute baser
metals into purer ones, heal diseases and increase longevity.
What the Alchemist is doing, then, is following the process of natural creation. Thus, Paracelsus speaks
of "Natural Alchemy": "Natural Alchemy causes the pear to ripen and produces grapes on a vine.
Natural alchemy separates the useful elements from the food that is put into the stomach, transforms it
into chyle and blood, into muscles and bones, and rejects that which is useless. A physician who knows
nothing of alchemy can only be a servant of nature... but the alchemist is her lord."
The teacher of Paracelsus, Johannes Tritheim, Abbot of Spanheim, speaks of the process of materialising
subtle elements in alchemy:
"The art of divine magic consists in the ability to perceive the essence of things in the light of Nature, and
by using the soul-powers of the spirit to produce material things from the unseen universe... You will learn
the law by which these things are accomplished, if you learn to know yourself... Gold is of a threefold
nature, and there is an ethereal, a fluid, and a material gold. It is the same gold, only in three different
states; and gold in one state may be made into gold in another state."
So we come now to the Inner Gold of the Alchemists. In Plato's Republic, Socrates suggests a myth that
there are four different types of men, each of whom have a certain type of metal in their souls: Iron,
copper, silver and gold. The men of gold are the Philosophers (in the true sense of Lovers of Wisdom, those
who love wisdom more than fame or wealth). Paracelsus speaks of the philosopher in a similar way. He
says: "We know that a lover will go a long way to meet the woman he adores - how much more will the lover
of wisdom be tempted to go in search of his divine mistress!"
In alchemy, there is the idea that, in the metallic kingdom, the object of nature is invariably to create gold.
The production of the baser metals is an accident of the process, or the result of an unfavourable
environment. Gold is therefore the archetype or goal of the metallic kingdom, and in a similar way, the Man
of Gold is the Archetype or Goal of the Human Kingdom. The idea is that one day, all metals will be gold and
all men will be 'philosophers', pure and incorruptible, as luminous and giving as the Sun itself.
Plato also said of those philosopher-kings of his Republic, that, since they would have gold in their souls,
they should have no desire for physical gold. And this seems to have been true of the great alchemists of
the Middle Ages. People like John Dee and Paracelsus were not rich. Roger Bacon was a monk. Such people
were obviously not motivated by the desire for gain, because they had sufficient wealth in themselves. As H.
P.Blavatsky says in her "Isis Unveiled": "Illuminated with the light of eternal truth, these rich-poor
alchemists fixed their attention upon the things that lie beyond the common ken, recognising nothing
inscrutable but the First Cause, and finding no question unsolvable. To dare, to know, to will and
REMAIN SILENT, was their constant rule..."
Another alchemist, Agrippa von Nettesheim, declared: "I could say much more about this art, were it not for the oath of silence usually taken by initiates into the mysteries".
The inner gold of the alchemists could therefore be defined as Wisdom, or Sophia. It is the knowledge of the full majesty of the universal creation in all its facets... and the experiential knowledge that that majesty is
also expressed through oneself. As above, so below: Man is a microcosm of the macrocosmos. Man
contains within himself the whole mystery of life. As the Greeks used to say on their temples: "Know
yourself and you will know the universe and the gods".
What is the path towards this divine wisdom? One alchemical writer put it thus: "Patience is the ladder
of philosophers, and humility is the key to their garden". Another (F. Hartmann, in his biography of
Paracelsus), states: "The highest form of alchemy is the transformation of vices into virtues by the fire of
love for the good, the purification of the mind by suffering, the elevation of the divine principle in man over the animal elements of his soul". Having achieved this process of sublimation, however, it is possible to return
to the world of matter and improve it. For as the same author states: "By the power of the spirit,
material elements may be sublimated into invisible (astral) elements, or invisible substances may be
coagulated and become visible". It could perhaps be compared to Plato's myth of the Cave: the
philosopher emerges from the cave of the senses into the light of truth, and then returns back into the cave to illuminate his fellow human beings. Alchemy is about this two-way process which is symbolised by the three main stages of the work: the black (nigredo) of dissolution; the white of Sublimation (albedo); and the
red of "exaltation", corresponding to the philosopher's stone which produces gold. Hence, returning to the
men of gold in Plato's Republic, it is significant that they were not only philosophers, but kings (red being
the royal colour), they were in the world, working for the good of humanity, but not of the world.
Many learned works have been written concerning the distinct phases of the work of alchemy and
their significance, whether from a moral, psychological or physical standpoint. But I am purposely not going
to go into detail on this matter, since it is a specialist field of study which in most cases is of a very
speculative nature; and without the guidance of an initiated teacher, or a special illumination, as A.E.
Waite points out, "the student is likely to be adrift and the Prima Materia will forever escape him". It is
not possible to commence the work of Alchemy without this Prima Materia and, as it is never clearly
specified exactly what it is (presumably because it refers to matter in a highly ethereal state), it is impossible to discover without such guidance. On this point there is a fascinating story told by the Italian
Renaissance philosopher and alchemist Pico della Mirandola of "a good man who had not a sufficiency to
support his family and was reduced to the last extremity of distress; with an agitated mind he went one night to sleep, and in a dream he beheld a blessed angel, who, by means of enigmas, instructed him in the method
of making gold, and indicated to him, at the same time, the water he should use to ensure success. At
his awaking he proceeded to work with this water, and made gold, truly in small quantity, yet sufficient
to support his family. Twice he made gold of iron and four times of orpiment. He convinced me by the
evidence of my own eyes that the art of transmutation is no fiction".
Alchemy should therefore be redefined as one of the lost spiritual sciences which, like its sister
Astrology, combines the deep study of nature with the study of man, and enables the adept (he who
has attained) to bring both man and nature to perfection. Paracelsus said that there were three
qualities necessary for the work of alchemy: Prayer (meaning a strong desire or aspiration for what is
good); Faith (not a blind faith, he says, but one which is based on knowledge, an unwavering confidence);
and Imagination (which he describes as "being sunk into deep thought, drowned in his own soul").
The inner gold of the alchemists is the perfected individual and the philosopher's gold is the perfection of
nature. Both man and nature are evolving towards this perfection, but man can help in the evolutionary
process by understanding and working on himself and on nature. Working only on the material level is a
very poor kind of science which, one day, will hopefully be expanded into the greater Science of Life
(sometimes known as "Magic").
Far from being the deluded individuals which the history of science so likes to imagine, the true alchemists
were great initiates who, in many ways, knew more of nature than our scientists of today. Masters both
of nature and themselves, they always placed that mastery at the service of God and Humanity and
never employed it for their own petty gain.
Bibliography:
The Life of Paracelsus, Dr. Franz Hartmann. Wizards Bookshelf, San Diego,1997.
The Secret Art of Alchemy, Stanislas Klossowski de Rola. Thames & Hudson, London, 1973.
Alchemists Through the Ages, A.E. Waite. Kessinger Publishing Company, Montana. "

...
"Facinating, all of it facinating!" I said aloud in the middle of my book, as if whispering to it that I wanted more. But, sadly, I had to leave because they were closing.


************

I shall practice renkinjutsu tonight. Reichigo is going to bed now, so I'll try in an hour or so.
This is so exciting, I wish that I knew everything.
-Dark


1992-(14 years old-----October)

The night in my last entry I failed the transmutation. I had tried to morph a rabbit and a crow together, but it ended by it blowing up in my face. I must have done something wrong, but I can't think of what.
By the way, today is my birthday, October 31st, and I'm attemping another transmutation. Instead of morphing two objects together, I'm going to try and create something from out of the blue.
-Dark

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REICHIGO'S DIARY ENTRY--or thoughts--

1994-(10 years old--near future for Dark)

Oh, no... I can't believe I did this... I couldn't have possibly killed him. Please...wake up... wake up....

REICHIGO'S VIEW:
I stared down at the lifeless man, the large hole in his chest mocking me. He's bleeding too much, and I resist the urge to throw up.
I'm on my knees, trying to shove the blood back in, but it won't work.
He had tried to kill me. He was trying to 'kidnap' me. But from who? I don't have any more parents... I killed them too.
I'm a monster. Alchemy did this to my life. If I had never learned alchemy, maybe everyone would still be alive. Maybe I'd still have my right arm and left leg. I wondered right then how Kiko was doing. I'd run out on her and now felt bad about it.
I sense someone is watching me. I've felt that for a long time now. But what do they want?
I gasp. What if they turn me in? What if they go to the cops and have them find me and arrest me? I couldn't go to jail! I can't! I'll run...
I'll run away.
Blood was on my hands, and I started weeping as I tried to rub it off. But only my right one rubbed off, the metal glinting in the moonlight. Blood on my hands....
"血の私の手にある ..." I whispered. I took out dad's pocket watch, and it clinked against my metal hand.

"Come here, boy." came a voice behind me.
I turn an look at an elderly man standing before me. His face is shadowed.
I jumped to my feet, and swing Kueta out from it's sheath.
"PEACE!" he shouts suddenly, startling me.
I put Kueta back in it's sheath, my automail clinking, and glared up at him. "What do you want from me, old man?!" I shout, bunching my fists.
"To warn you." He says, his voice deep and crisp.
"Warn me about what?"
"Yourself."
I blink and continue to stare at him.................."What?"
"You will kill and feast on bloodshed, you will murder, and harm the innocent. Kill men, woman, and children, including infants."
My eyes widen with horror. Why was he telling me this?
"You, Reichigo Kulric, will become the mass murder of the century."
Then I heard a thunk, felt a huge pain in my skull, felt a trickle of hot liquid running down my forehead, and I blacked out.
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