DISCLAIMER: ElfQuest is (c) Warp Graphics, Inc. Tenchi Muyo! is (c) Pioneer. The characters War, Famine, Pestilence, and any other not already copyrighted belong to me.

WARNING: This story starts to get dark in this episode, and it's only going to get progressively darker. Consider this a warning for violent content.

He always saw the same thing whenever he was reborn. His mother's smiling eyes made his throat feel thick and his father's gruff voice brought tears to his eyes. His elder sister's hair had been a lovely ebony black, and she always used to pull it back from her face. She had been a pretty girl. They were there to remind him, to keep him from forgetting why he had become what he was.

Sometimes he could still taste the eggs. They were round and cool, their boiled whites crushing gently between his teeth. He remembered how quiet the last days had been, how the smiles seemed to die from his mother's eyes and how rarely his father seemed to talk. His sister seemed to become very old very suddenly, as if over night, and he remembered wondering why he could hear her crying at night.

His mother had been very adept at making thugpa, he remembered. He remembered that because it was the last meal she ever made for the whole family.

Then everything was red. Angry voices shouted in a blend of Chinese and broken Tibetan. He could hear his sister's screaming nearby, but he couldn't see her. He could feel his mother's arms close around him, keeping him behind her, trying to hide him from the horror. He heard words that he didn't understand and words that he did, and then the monsters came near him.

One grabbed for his mother and she shrieked hoarsely, darting behind his father. He could hear his father's voice again, the gruffness given away to a terrible grate that made him flinch with terror. The drab green monsters yelled at his father and his father yelled back, then suddenly all fell silent as his mother began to wail. Her voice was strong and clear again and the chaos seemed to pause a moment as she saved her soul and lost her life.

"Dalai Lama Ki Jai! Dalai Lama Zinda-bad!"

Everything became red again as thunder struck against a cloudless sky and his mother gave out of a soft cry before falling backwards on to him. He just barely got out of the way in time before his father ran forward, catching her before she collapsed on to the ground. He remembered the tears in his eyes, the sob that caught in his father's throat; he had never seen his father cry before.

Everything started exploding around him. He realized he could no longer hear his sister's crying and his mother's eyes had closed, her head drooped forward against his father's shoulder. There was blood, so much blood…

Angry monster voices screamed at him in Chinese as he was yanked away from his father. Tears blurred everything from sight and he felt something cold and metal shoved into his hand. One of the monsters kept him from dropping it, grabbing his hand and forcing it over his. A spider-like finger snaked through and suddenly his hand jerked back as thunder roared in his ear.

A splash of blood exploded from his father's chest and he fell back, still cradling his mother's arms. Cold, wicked monster laughs rang in his ears as he stumbled back, staring wide-eyedly at the two bodies. He dropped the cold metal thing and fell to his knees, mouth open in shock. Dead, the word screamed in his mind. Dead dead dead dead dead.

His father's eyes refused to close, staring at him over the pile of his mother's beautiful hair, accusing him and reminding him of the terrible thing he had just done. Unbidden, he could hear himself yelling and screaming, and then one of the monsters slapped him. His eyes smarted with tears and his fingers found the cold metal thing he had dropped moments before.

He made the thunder come again. He made it ring across the farm as he killed the monsters as he had killed his father, making the redness explode over their chests and faces and bodies as it had on his father. Dimly, he could hear his own voice above the onslaught as he made the green monsters fall, then all seemed to go deathly silent as the cold metal death in his hand made a hollow clicking noise.

Behind him, he could hear another thunder go off. The bullet plowed into the back of his head, shattering his skull, puncturing his brain, and embedded itself deep inside. He fell forward with stars in his eyes, inhaling and spitting out dirt until his lungs simply refused to work. Then darkness hugged him close and the last thing he saw was his mother's smiling eyes and his father's crooked grin before his heart drifted off to sleep.

He was nine years old.

"Papa?"

Her muscles were like jello, her head pounded with the force of a sledgehammer, but she noticed none of this. She only felt the strong arms encircling her, the faint smell of woodsmoke and dust as her face was buried in a kimono that was hauntingly familiar in its scents and threadbare feel. There was the faintest tickle of his whiskers against her upper brow.

"Papa?"

She couldn't say anything more. She could only repeat that word over and over, as if to cement his presence, her presence, make it seem more real. Make it seem as if it weren't just a dream she was going to wake up from at any moment.

"Papa?"

She didn't want to die, not again. The girl felt as if she would, for she could feel nothing except pain, but it was slighted by her father's presence. She had missed him. God, how she had missed him.

"Papa?"

Why won't he say anything?

"Papa?"

"I'm here."

His voice was as gruff as it had always been, yet gentle and soothing. The mere sound of it brought tears to her eyes. She felt them roll down her cheeks, wet his kimono, slip into her lips and flood her mouth with their salty taste.

"Papa!"

The last thing Leetah remembered was the human's eyes opening, staring foggily up at her from behind his spectacles. Then her vision swam and her knees buckled beneath her weight, and she collapsed over his bandaged form.

Now she was awake again, her body was wracked with fatigue. Great Sun, what had she been thinking? She hadn't healed a human since Shuna, and not of anything so terrible since… since…

Fortunately, a voice intruded before she could finish the wretched thought. "Leetah?"

She offered a faint groan as her reply.

"Leetah, are you awake?"

It was Venka. Her eyes opened to meet the younger maiden's calm gaze. Something stuck in the healer's throat briefly; she looked so much like her father.

Where had her brooding friend disappeared to anyway?

"Leetah?"

"Yes," she said abruptly to silence the questions. With a sigh, Leetah started to sit up, only to find she couldn't. With a frown, she looked down… and was bemused to find herself strapped to some sort of… chair. "What the…"

Venka looked oddly embarrassed. "You fainted. We needed to bring you to a place where you could rest quickly, outside the hospital, and Washuu offered her laboratory…"

Leetah studied her restraints with no small lack of amusement. "Do I even want to ask, Venka?"

"Well… No. Not really."

The effects of this world must be taking their toll, the healer thought absently. She could've sworn she saw a sweatdrop appear on Venka's brow.

"Oh! You're awake!"

Both elves looked up just in time to see Washuu drop from a hole in the middle of the ceiling. The mad scientist, barely six inches taller than them, touched down lightly, flipping a bright red lock of hair over her shoulder. Her green eyes glittered from behind her glasses. "I was wondering when you were going to regain consciousness!"

Leetah's smile was thin. "Can you please let me out now?"

"But… You know, I don't really know that much about your species' physiology. Between the magnificent power levels you give off, and the hints of limited spatial temporary transformation in your bloodstream… I was thinking about collecting some samples…"

It was definite. Leetah and Venka both wore sweatdrops on their brow.

Washuu leered, then it vanished with a wink. "Just kidding! This story was getting too serious for my tastes anyway."

"Huh?"

"Oh, man. What fools these mortals be. Never mind, cute-cheeks, it's beyond your comprehension."

The healer counted to eight at least five times while Washuu freed her. Once it was done, she hopped free, suppressing a shudder. She did NOT want to know what went on in that! Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Venka looking at her, and she shot the younger elf a glare. Venka blushed and scuffed her foot.

Trying to regain what was left of her dignity, Leetah cleared her throat. "How is the human? Masaki-san?"

"Huh? Oh, Nobuyuki. He's fine, if a wee bit tired." Washuu flashed the younger being a dazzling, if somewhat disconcerting smile. "You did good, kid."

She couldn't suppress the relieved sigh. "Thank the High Ones," the healer whispered.

Washuu looked as if she was going to say something, but she was cut off abruptly as the floor rocked violently beneath their feet. Venka and Leetah were pitched to the floor, but Washuu lifted up into the air, her eyes wide with alarm. "What the hell…" she hissed, a wave of her arm calling up a glowing console.

What she saw made the color drain from her face.

I am not Death, but I am his follower. I dance in your pain, I sing in your suffering, and I wallow in your disgust.

I will watch the flesh on your bones whither and stagnate. I will watch it slide off and puddle on the ground. I will laugh as your eyes become sunken and hollow, and I will applaud when you have no strength to support even your own body. I will giggle with glee when you cry out to Death to kill you.

I will celebrate when you curse my name.

I will rejoice when you curse your Gods and spit on holy grounds.

I will revel when you sleep in your own waste and enjoy it.

I will starve you until you eat your own fingers and find your teeth in your hands. I will make you retch with an empty stomach and make you clutch your stomach as it convulses with nothing inside it.

I am Famine.

I am Famine.

I am Famine.

Nad mtshon mu ge'i bskal pa.

"He's awakened."

"Oh, you noticed?"

"Smart ass."

"I know."

"…"

"What? What's wrong?"

"Something's different."

"What? What do you mean 'different'?"

"I…"

"…."

"I don't know."

"What?"

"He's just a boy, but…"

"'But'…?"

"War, I… I think…"

"…."

"I think he's remembered."

"…."

"…."

"Oh shit."

Author's notes:

Translated roughly from Tibetan: Hail the Dalai Lama! Long live the Dalai Lama!

Translated from Tibetan: Age of illness, warfare, and famine.

I don't speak Tibetan or Chinese. All the phrases I will use will either be from the Dalai Lama's autobiography (the name of which seems to escape me at the moment...) or from Tibetan/English or Chinese/English dictionaries. If you notice any discrepencies in the dialogue, please e-mail me. Thanks. ^_^