Ryūko Novels & Stories

She got her egg back, that was the point of all of this. Yet, here I am, walking to her nest with several dragons and a rider. “What’s your name?” I ask the rider. “What’s yours?” he asks defensively. “Skylar,” I say, looking at him like he’s being ridiculous. “I’m Ryuki.” “Hi, Ryuki. Your dragon is pretty sarcastic.” I watch him grin, then look up at his dragon. The grin widens. I don’t have to hear the dragon to know he’s disagreeing with my assessment of him.

I said. "My name is Kyros and I am your protector. Well, I was your protector when you were born, but I was murdered when you were two but there was something in your mind which seemed unable to forget me," he sighed but I didn't remember anyone called Kyros when I was child. He didn't even have a face. I guess that didn't really help, perhaps if he had a face, I would be able to remember who the hell he was but he was faceless and his voice didn't ring any bells either.

I don't know why but I don't like the idea of owing him anything, I walked to the science lab and had to partner up with a girl. "Makino, come sit with me." She said. "Uh okay." "I'm Mano Ryoko but you can call me Ryoko or Mano, whatever is fine." "Ryoko then." "You seem close to Kuroda." She said as the teacher started talking. "Oh not really." I already knew what this was about. "But you seemed really close in the hallway." She moved her face close to mine, hoping to catch a change in my expression. "We are not cl-"

They both stopped by the oriental's chair. "Riyuki," Sam said, "this is Scott and his two slaves, Julia and Lisa. You didn't meet them yesterday because you were busy. Scott, this is Riyuki, and the little rascal eating breakfast is Hideko. Hideko was a little under the weather yesterday, but seems to be doing better today. Riyuki is our newest mother, at least until Zoe and Dorinda have theirs." "You're baby is beautiful, Riyuki," Julia said. "What is the meaning of Hideko in Japanese?"

Rational went out the window the minute his alleged sperm donor showed up at my door and told me of his ridiculous plan for Chance. A door slams down the hall, and I hear heavy footsteps walking toward me. I push away from the wall and watch him saunter my direction. He's carrying a soft brown leather briefcase, suit coat thrown over his elbow, tie nowhere to be found. His brown hair is messy, like he's been running his hand through it. He's got to be in his forties but he's aged well. He has a bit of a swagger but not enough to appear cocky. More like he's confident in a job well done, even if he's a little tired from a long day.