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Rated: 18+ · Campfire Creative · Appendix · Fantasy · #1027321
New! Completely different story! (to old one). the name just seemed appropriate.
[Introduction] *based on flex' book, which is part-illustrated and beta'd by the wonderful me!!*

It's not every day you become something you're not.

Cayla Takida - half japanese high schooler has just started to realise the depth of her problems. She's not like the rest of the schools' population. She is a shape shifter; hated and unwelcomed by all. A race that is considered sub - human, a beast.

When humans realise the continued existance of another mysterious race, fear was ignited. Now in 2022, 14 years after they were proven to be real (in 2008), shape shifters are a hunted race. Many have been killed, thousands branded before disappearing completely.

Cayla believed it too.. not zealously but it was all she had ever been taught. So her world was turned upside down when she found out. It took some getting used to, but her parents kept her secret, not turned her in to be experiment on by biologists like some over-zealous neighbours down the road; their kid was six when they gave him ti the authority.

But then... she had to go and contort her life even further from the reality she had once had, she tried to and succeeded in morphing into the phoenix. The one thing that would condemn her. For the shapeshifters had a prophecy, that the phoenix would once again rise, and lead them to safety. And when the humans had found out about this lore they had vowed to kill this Messiah as soon as they found him or her. So in conclusion of this revelation... Cayla just signed her own death warrant....

And kai(who is very puritainian*) will see her in phoenix form, slash her wrist, and be able to tell the whole school who she is in the morning...

She was hope to these people, the hero whom everyone expected to bring freedom and peace, and yet... They said that a hero could save them... How could she be a hero if she was dead?

The Story Line:

When Cayla turns into the phoenix, which no other shifters can perform, a boy from her school, Kai Hachisuka, whom Cayla has a 'slight' crush on,
will see her in the phoenix form and slash her wrist, so that when she changes back, he can tell who the phoenix is.

we will start from the first time she changes.

Set Characters:

Cayla Takida

Nationality: half japanese half american.
Blood type: AB
Age:15, born a year before the discovery of shapeshifters(in 2008)

car: a lime green bug
instruments: the violin. Grade 5 standard.

Appearence: 5"6 Cayla has raven black, just-past-shoulder-length hair, with a fringe that always annoys her parted to the left. She also has violet, almond shaped eyes, with long eyelashes. Ahe dresses scruffily, but with taste, and always seems to have forgotten something, always wears slightly punky clothes. Cayla has a tattoo of a black she-wolf on her left hip.

Personality: Cayla has a very addict-pron personality - obsessing over manga, Half Baked (B&J) ice cream, music, coffee and cigarettes. She gets hyper easily, but can also be quite dark and moody, especially recently when she found out that she was a shapeshifter. School legend has it that when you wake her up she is truly terrifying. But generally she's a happy go lucky, ditzy, klutzy, tokyo girl. She is good at improvising in new situations and protective of her OVERLY cute lil' (sorta) adopted brother, Tenji. She also has a crush on Kai, The kid who saw her.

History: has just found out that she is a shapeshifter. And will soon find out that she is the phoenix, king of all shape shifter. Her parents have accepted her, even though she is one of "them", and she has lived in japan all her life. around 5 years ago, their family chose to adopt Tenji, a little orphan boy she made friends with.


Name: Kai Hachisuka
Nationality: japanese through and through.
Age: 16.
Blood type: AB
Car: multiple. But most often seen in a vintage black jag.

Brief appearence: For some reason unknown to man, Kai has golden hair that with his natural highlights seems to shine. High cheekbones, small and sharp cerulean eyes, perfect teeth, a low drawl, and a scar (much gossiped about, but actually gained from falling down the stairs) Kai is probably the most lusted after boy at his high school. Too bad he just doesn't seem to care. As brooding as he is hot and as arrrogant as he is intelligent, Kai wanders around in black, or on a good day, black and gray. Most of the time wearing black jeans and a gray cashmere poloneck or something similar.

Personality: Kai is bitter towards his mother, and a smile from him is rare. He tends to smirk, and is quite sarcastic. He tends to rebel against authority, turning into what his mother seems to think is a 'poor' person:- he smokes, he drinks, he listens to metal and punk. He likes fast cars and has to have 3 i-pod cameras to fit all his music on (he likes vintage, hence the ipods). All the rest of his technology is up to the minute (his dad did make his millions in technology after all).

Other: Ironically he was there with his father when the first shapeshifter was seen. HIs face was splashed across headlines at the age of two. it sorta scarred him.

Out of the ashes

Everyone knows the story of the anciant Garden of Eden... Garden of Paradise. Everyone knows what the garden of eden was, just as everyone knows that man came from this garden, because they were netranced with power. Yet it is rare that anyone should know the full story seeing as it was lost when Man was banished.

Beneath the Tree of Knowledge, was a delicate rose bush that went unnoticed in the splendor of the tree. However, as one by one, beast after beast began to seek further existance out side the garden, the Great Spirit gave the Rose bush a special treasure to nourish. A ruby egg, created within the folds of the first Spring flower, and as it opened a bird was born.

It's flight was like the flashing of light, plumage bright and beauteous, but the most striking factor was it's magnificent song that was as tender as the rose it w as born of but still as thorny... The flame that arose from it's glorious heart was kindled through the blessed touch of fate. But fate was also to put one more gift to the new birds wing.

This gift was almost a curse. After many years in the garden, the Phoenix began to burn. It screeched in terror, unknowing as to what was taking place. It's feathers began to fall and with them pain filled tears.

An angel stared down from the Skies and felt such pity for the Phoenix it blew the angel-kiss to earth. Feathers and tears melded into one creating animals and people that were bonded in spirit. These became the second race of Man. More commonly known as ShapeShifters.

Cayla sat in her bed, staring into the bleak ooze of darkness that was tentatively seeping across the sky, and watching a golden feather float lightly onto the age white windowsill, before crumbling into a pile of black embers. Ashes floated up the silk panelling, flitting across it as though they were being painted on with an invisible paintbrush. A golden luminosity filled the room, yet it was dull and insipid, a fading modicum of its former radiance.

As she cursed a lock of black hair fell in front of her eyes, obscuring her revision roughly with its miasma of hairs. Cayla blew at it softly, watching the strands as they danced idly in the warm breeze, only just taking in the fact that she had signed her own death warrant.

For the hundredth time that day she wondered what had possessed her to attempt it, to morph into the phoenix. The thought nudged her constantly, twisting her guts into knots and churning them around in a terrifying war dance. A flame of horror flickered callously in her heart, and she began to sob, choking back tears, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth and a dull ache rising throughout her whole body. Every limb throbbed with red-hot flames, every feverish breath short and shaky.

People wanted a hero to save them. To save them from the persecution, from the slavery, from death. They wanted a fiery king to save them, yet how could anyone be saved if that hero was dead? Suddenly the childhood dream of flying away seemed so clever in its simplicity to Cayla. Why live life from dream to dream, and then spend your whole life dreading the day when dreaming ends?

She bit her nails ceaselessly; lost deep beneath the profound thoughts that were flitting around the room, dredging up every last curse word that she could think of. She muttered idly that there never seemed to be enough.

Cayla had never been one for being subtle. She liked to stand out. She revelled in being different. She enjoyed challenging other people and their ideals. There was nothing more satisfying than beating someone at their own game or trumping smeone's beliefs. For instance the hatred felt towards shapeshifters had never been of great importance to her but she decided to be pro-freedom for the 'freaks' even before she found out she was one. She'd been to countless demonstrations for things she only just new enough about. But then again by the end of the day she'd know the ins-and-outs of each topic like the back of her hand. It wwas one way of becoming culturally and politically tuned in.

But I didnt want to be this different... She wondered absently. I never asked for this.

Then again she hardly thought that anyone asked to be what they were. And people wanted a revolution.

Revolution. The repudiation and thorough replacement of an establishment or government by those repressed rebels who reutilise the power of vocational merit or even the channeling of mass discontent. Revolution. A radical and regnant reversal of rule and ruling by the resentment within the ruckus of the retisent populas. Revolution. The rise and realization of a rebellion.

They wanted all that to be lead by her. It wasn't fair and it kept creeping into her head. What if someone realised? Everyone knew the legend... The world knew the myth. And now the myth was a reality and she was the unlucky duck to be chosen.

She found herself falling back into her thoughts and knew she'd never make her way through all that she did... Even if she managed to make an effort it would be less than satisfactory... It would bebetter if she just woke early and did it before school. Fuck it she needed to get out of this room. Out of this house.

With a last exasperate sigh she tossed her pen aside and fled throught he window, knowing her parents would never let her go out at this time without due reason. Was her affliction not enough reason? No... then they really would freak out...

She was in so much shit...
Grabbing a cigarette from the battered pack of lucky strikes that lay beside her snapped guitar picks, she slid from the bed, still clutching a worn blue throw. Lilac stripes and spots formed a vague pattern on the soft fleece, and she let it envelop her like a cocoon. A cocoon with red nail varnish stains on it. Now was a time for ice cream. Ice cream and a sulk. And perhaps a little bass.

Her hand moved up to light it with the fluid grace of an addict, and she grabbed around in the halflight for the battered green guitar case. apparently they weren't there. For starters, she had left the case on the roof of her school, and also her hand had turned into a god-damned claw. Ironically enough, this now made her feel quite catty towards the whole situation as she huffed and watched it change back.

Furry stubs elongated and grew joints as the hair receded back into her skin, as though it had never been there. The whole process was like watching evolution in fast forward. She swore and turned to look in the mirror and check for beaks.

What she saw first were her toes. They winked back at her, light glancing off well scrubbed nails which peeped out fron the worn brown leather of her wedges. They were one of her favourite sets of shoes, perfectly broken in chloe knock offs, brought back from london by a favoured cousin for her. The wedges were narrow at the back, and high, giving a sleek sillhouette. The battered leather gave them just the quirkiness that cayla loved. The cool, modern shape and the comforting material contrasted like the PVC leggings she wore, bought from a sex shop in the harajuku district, with the ruffled blue dress and oversized cream cardigan.

She liked the leggings because they made her look tough. Her petite frame and angular features often made her feel twig-like and weak. Which was why it was so bizarre that her first transformation had been into a gizzly bear. The bedsheets had been most dissatisfied. Infact they were now the ribbons woven into the plait of her hair.

Cayla's gloved right hand reached up to grab the fag, and she flicked the ash into a melted bottle that lay on the bedstand. She expelled the smoke, which danced and skitted through the air, and studied her face more closely. Her features were angular and european, which did not really resemble her european father's softened, dough like features. Instead they resembled her parisian grandmother's, who had been an upper class hooker in the paris of the 1960s. She had married a rich anglo-singaporean, who had moved to tokyo after the millenium. Her petite frame, domed forehead, and jet black hair were the only signs of her japanese heritage.

She stubbed out the last tendrils of heat in the cigarette and flicked it into the dustbin, which moved slightly to the right in order to catch the still-warm butt. Grabbing a pot of icecream from the fridge beside her cupboard, she walked a few paces into the lift of her appartment. A few seconds passed and she had reached the bottom of the lift shaft. The lift was rickety and old, a design from the pre millenium, when they had still used lift cables. She liked it. It reminded her of mortality, and gave her the stomach flips, like on a vertical drop simulator. As her soles clacked against the checked marble flagstones towards the door of the lobby, she chucked her keys to the goofy doorman, who skittered along the floor to catch them.
As if sensing the trouble going on in the world, the clouds of the heavens billowed their sorrow, ignored for the most part. But that would not keep them from singing their song of sadness. On Earth, a different sadness was occuring. One of a girl whose secret had so nearly been found out... She retained a painfully dangerous entity which if anyone 'normal' found out would jepordise not only her own safety, but the hope of the New Movement.

And now this troubled the one who was standing merely a hundred yards away. This stranger was not seen, how could anyone notice something so unimportant as the small creature beside the wall? He had camoflaged himself with his surroundings, becoming part of the dirt of the city... But he could not let this discovery go by, without a second glance. He couldn't let this youngster's intolerance of her situation continue forever as it may do if she was left to deal with it on her own.

Bracing himself for any trouble, the one named Urich awaited the time to make his move. He could not react too soon, as that would throw off the balance on Earth. Nor could he wait too long, and allow the suffering to continue for all eternity... He watched the girl fade into the rain and sighed. Maybe it was time to contact the rest of the Movement... Maybe it was time to put someone else among the girl's peers.

This was just what she needed. She scoped out more of the thick, creamy, delacacy from the tub and smiled. Ice cream therapy. Who could ask for anythign better? Cayla grinned and let the spoonful melt on her tongue. Beno&Jerrino sure knew how to make good ice cream... Despite their vintage recipes.

The rain, that still hadn't let up, seemed to match her mood but she quite liked it... The leering clouds cast a gloomy glamour over her haven in the park. She had tucked herself into an old bus port, which had been dumped in the park after the recontruction of the transport system. The old shelter was clear glass in a half tunnel shape, letting her stick her feet out into the rain but still allowing her to stay mainly dry. Not that she would have minded... She could still feel the flames in her blood, heating her in a strangely disturbing manner. Or maybe that was just the caffeine from the chocolate ice cream...

She pondered on that for a second before returning to more pressing matters. The thoughts in her head were slowly beginning to make more sense. She knew that although her Phoenix form her been seen, no one had actually seen her. In fact only one person, to her knowledge had seen her and that person was Kai. Sure she knew him from school but in the shape of an over sized flaming bird she hardly imagined that he would be able to recognise her... And yes he had slashed open her arm but he would hardly think to check people at school, the place was reknown for it's groups of anti-shifters... She frowned... Kai included. Though he did seem to keep out of politics if he could help it...

Why he seemed to be almost fed up with the mass hysteria that still swept through the city everytime there was an arrest of any kind. Then again... maybe it was just because he was apathetic towards what happened to shifters if they were caught... Cold was certainly his way of life... Or so it seemed...

Cold, aloof, drop dead gorgeous... Those eyes when they had seen her as the phoenix... They had been so bitterly frosted... Maybe that was anger...

Why was she thinking so much about him? The point was that no one knew who she was and though the public would know soon enough it wouldn't necersarily be the end of the world...

In fact it could be a good thing.

Shifters every where would have hope. Maybe they would become more confident and have more faith in their own abilities and... If they were caught... if the hope created a more 'together'attitude among them... maybe... maybe they would stand a chance later... And if they were caught they would feel as if they were doing things for a cause and that there was enough to cling to... maybe there would abe a greater number of survivors...

She shuddered, not wanting to think about the state of some of the shifters that had been released from the archipelago of prisons.

She went for another scoop of icecream. The tub was empty. She pouted and shook her head. She had really finished all that?


Mean while an assembly was forming in the deserted ghettos at the edge of the city. The uninhabited twentieth century monstrosities sheltered the strays and outcasts, providing enough hide aways for them to disappear easily into the alleyways.

Urich made his way into one of the larger, less crumpled buildings, the pillars along the walls and wooden beams screaming of a world that had long been left behind. He made his way up a flight of stairs, opened a door into a long hall.

Shadows of others already lined the walls and crouched in the corners. No one's face was shown. No one's names were known. Except for their captain, their leader, who was known by his psuedonym of Comrade and who had approached each of them to be a part of this council. Urich was certain that he had several other councils and communities which he controlled, despite his young age, but...

How would Comrade react when he realised that their long await savior was no only not ready to undertake her task, but was also yet to finish high school? He took to the center of the room, letting his hood shade his face from the others. This was the only way they were all safe. The only one who knew them was Comrade...

With a deep breath he began to decribe what he had seen and with another... emphasised the issues surrounding Cayla.

*I would like to point out that the scale of change, timewise, is from the late 80s to now, so no bizarrely modern sci fi things please. The shifters are a fairly big change anyway, without making the earth into an apocolyptic mess*

Rain slithered down the side of Cayla's face in silvery tongues, barely licking past her cheek before dropping onto the reassuring whorls of the solid, wooden bench. She groped around her handbag for her cigarettes, the smell of stale tobacco hazily reaching her nostrils. Her fingers clenched around the battered cardboard of the pack. All that was left of its contents were a few loose slithers of mingled leaves and ash. The dyes leaked into each other on the laminate, forming a violent mess of embers and violet that reflected the atmosphere enveloping the city.

The polluted air above the city glowed purple and brown, the sun's light refracting through the layers of pollution that caked the atmosphere, like oil paints applied messily upon the thin, delicate washes of a watercolour pallete. Tokyo's skyline had not changed much in the fourteen years since the discovery of the mutant DNA that led to shifters, dating back to events many years before in Nagaski and hiroshima. And yet Tokyo's underground now linked up the many terrorist cells of persecuted shifters.

As her thoughts drifted over the terrorists, Cayla glared at the tarmac. The fire that had scorched her curtains burned in her eyes, her pupils now minute neutron stars. Had anyone been awake on that deserted pathway, they would have seen galaxies of stars darting around her iris, and, terrifyingly, the dark emptiness of space behind them. In that moment, the whole of the universe would have seemed to be under the phoenix' power.

Cayla hated those buggers. Ideas of superiority flowed through their brains, and their dreams were of over-running the people of the Earth. It sickened her. What made her stomach clench was that they would use her, a fifteen year old, to try attempt it. Years of religious wars had been reduced to the odd bar brawl in comparison to the passion that these murdering animals had shown to their cause. It wasn't any wonder that normal people were terrified of shifters. In some ways, she was too. It felt unfair that the minority was overrunning the peaceful shifters, but that was always the case. The fact that they had the ability to destroy buildings and lives with one shift, and escape the police so easily, was the true fear that ignited in so many hearts. Both sides were guilty of the discriminating fears that culminated in death.

The path opened into the honeycomb of the city under the heavy boughs of two cherry trees, their blossoms beaten by the rain, taking the weight of the water from hitting her. These blossoms guarded the city fiercely, and yet their delicay meant that they would probably all be dead by the night's fall. The rights of Hanami had been interrupted by fresh outbursts of violence in the early spring, and now nature was wrathfully stealing back her beautiful flowers, who had been neglected by the humans that normally delighted in the sakura. Even the geisha, reduced to tourist attractions from their once powerful position, were suffering as a result of the renewed violence. Picnic spots in the parks, like Ueno, once fought over, now lay empty.

An alarm beeped from inside her beaten leather bag, warning her that she had ten minutes until registration. Cayla cursed and ran to the underground terminal, hoping that the high speed train hadn't been delayed by someone accidentally shifting, as they tended to do if they had a smaller concentration of mutant genes. Although Cayla did occasionally shift accidentally, it was only due to high stress. The very high concentration of mutant genes meant that she was relatively safe from the watchers, although not if she pulled any more stunts like two nights ago.

As she sprinted to the suspension lift, she saw that the terminal was empty, save for a lone ticket vendor at his booth who stared at the card readers blinked at her from their ports. The room had a high ceiling, caked heavily with dirt and grime. Occasional glimpses of emerald green could be seen on the walls, where young children had carved their initials into the grime with switchblades and pocket knives. The rectangular shape was interrupted only by the information station, and the vendor idly whistling where he stood.

As her heels clicked rythmically on the polished stone floors a camera followed her movements. It swiveled on it's metal neck like a vulture, skeletal metal wings, that were the spring system, holding it in place. They had been deemed 'vultures' by the populations of shifters and humans alike, and many jokes were told about the government making their anti-shifter cameras so bestial. Their comical appearence was no link to their true intentions though. Vulture cams were the closest things that humanity had ever invented to resemble Orwell's 'Big Brother'.
Urich kept himself balanced as the subway train came to a stop. He hated these things, but knew that it was necessary. After all, she would be coming on this train any minute now. If he was right, it was this stop.

He never liked sitting on the dirty seats of the subway, so he always stood. He kept himself inconspicous as she boarded. He didn't need to draw attention to himself right now. Although that was hard, considering that he and her were the only two people on the train now.

"Hello," she said. He merely nodded a greeting, not interested in saying anything, lest he escalate things out of control. Like he did in the Dark Ages. That was fun.

He knew his orders were clear. Get off at the stop she did. Follow her, but make sure she didn't know. And keep an eye on her until he recieved further orders.

There was no point in what the world was doing. Kai Hachisuka knew there was no point in asking people sign forms stating their disease free bodies from the mutant gene. Who would sign that they were inflicted by it? No one was that stupid if they wanted to survive. He glared at the bureaucracy that was being broadcasted as a 'new protection'. It was ridiculous.

A cloud of smoke spilled over his lips as he allowed the grey waste to sift away from his mouth. He relished the way the normal air, the polluted, clammy air that tourists sniffed and gagged, tasted so pure and wholesome after a toke. It was part of the reason he smoked. The way it made the rest of the world seem clean.

The rain was falling outside his window and he knew his mother would complain about it all evening if he showed his face downstairs and he would be required to remain silent, listening to her qualms and nodding where appropriate. She couldn't stop being self-centred. Not that he wanted to talk to her. But once in a while he wondered what it would be like to have a mother who cared about his oppinions. Like his dad did. Not that he ever saw his dad...

With a sigh he stubbed out the dying cigarette and moved away from the television. He wasn't surprised by the way things were happening. After all, he had seen the most advanced mutation to date.

He had been the only witness to the Phoenix. And he had wounded it. He smirked to himself, he had hurt the most 'powerful' shifter that there apparently could ever be. He had simply drawn a knife and cut it. So much for 'indescribable power born to the chosen'. If a knife could cut it, a bullet could shoot it. No more over grown bird. It made him slightly angry that it had escaped but then again... He hadn't reported it. So he was the only one who knew it was in Tokyo.


Cayla slid into her appartment with a rattling of keys and quickly locked the door behind her. The whole way home she had felt as if she was being watched. Once or twice she had even turned around but no one was there. She sat on her bed staring at the wall for a moment... trying to concentrate... trying for all she could to shake that feeling.

It was the same as when she had caught Kai's aura lunging at her before she turned and saw him. Was she right? Was it just instinct? Was it something else?

The wall was obscured by a shadow through her window. With a small yelp she dived under her duvet covers and huddled there, waiting for something to reassure her...

© Copyright 2005 Dr Matticakes Myra, Flex 5th birthday just gone., Jason Simmons, (known as GROUP).
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