Summary: Paul Phoenix bonds with Mokujin.
Hello, welcome! Thanks for all the interest on the first Paul Phoenix fic. Here comes the second installment, this time with friendship between Paul and Mokujin.
Friendship of Strangers
featuring Mokujin
by Salysha
Being put up against a bear and having it called your rival had an insulting ring to it. This, however, was a new low. Paul glanced at the prancing piece of wood and hedged between calling the practice session off and making him some firewood. The thing seemed kind of eager to fight, though, and he swallowed his cussedness. They were outdoors, in a sunshine-bright day and with green grass around them. It was a nice day for a fine beating.
"Let's get it over with," he said, and added in an afterthought, "Chop, chop."
The fight was over too soon. The session was felled as soon as the opponent, and there was little that could bring the mood up again. Whomever the tree had been posing as, it had not been enough. Mokujin had been defeated, and Paul Phoenix had triumphed.
Paul was ready to move on, but the tree had frozen in its place. It hunched on a rock, as miserable as only a sentient being could. Paul glanced over his shoulder awkwardly. He couldn't leave now, could he? He took a hesitant step forward and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He took them out and strolled some. Paul cleared his throat and tried to think of something nice to say to the losing party.
"So... you're a piece of wood. How's that working for you?"
Did trees cry? Resin? Sap? He hated sap. Dammit. Paul shifted on his feet and wanted nothing more than to take off. And yet, there the tree was, bawling its eyes out.
"Umm... are you okay?"
What was he doing? Like the tree could have answered, even if it understood. When pigs fly and trees speak...
"I failed," the tree said with a sob.
To his amazement, Paul could understand every word. The speech came in odd, clicking patterns that sounded like blinking indicator lights, but it was clearly intelligible, meaningful speech. "You speak? You can understand me?"
The tree twitched on his seat, and the downcast reply followed. The blinking sound came once, shortly. "Yes."
I'll be damned. Paul stared at his arborous opponent, who was huddled to himself, small and miserable. With the way the thing had reacted, it was just a small... sapling. It had that sprout coming out of its head. It looked like a kid and acted like one, too. Dammit. He was starting to think about these things like they were human. Here the non-human was, hunkering miserably.
Paul sat down on a tree stump, wincing. Hope that wasn't a cousin of yours. He glanced curiously to his side; the tree was alive.
"You haven't failed nothing. It was just practice."
If he had hoped for the tree to perk up, it wasn't working. The tree hunched even more miserably and gave a sap-sob. The odd, blinking noise conveyed another downcast message. "I am not strong enough. I will fail."
"But what are you trying to do?"
"Stop evil."
Paul Phoenix had heard it all, he thought, but this took the cake. The tree was on a crusade—a champion for good. It had conjured some kind of an image in its head that there was an evil to fight. It was ludicrous. Yet, Paul didn't need to hold back the snort anything labeled "ludicrous" should have merited. The snort never emerged as anything more than a fleeting whim.
He knew what being talked down to felt like, and the tree looked like its heart had been broken. He didn't like the ewey-gooey, but who was the tree going to tell? Paul shifted in his seat.
"Hey, tree?" What was it called again? "...Mokujin?"
Mokujin remained rooted to the spot. He barely stirred at the call. Paul edged closer on his seat.
"Hey, you listening? It was just practice." Here he was, giving the tree a pep talk. Discomfiting, if vague, memories reminded him of chats with doors and ceilings. By comparison, he was doing all right. "You'll be fine once the real matches start."
That crying was making him uncomfortable. True, not much fighting prowess or intellect had been displayed today, but that meant nothing. The tree could rise to the occasion yet. In the meanwhile, a distraction was called for.
"What do you mean by talking about the evil? What's that about?"
The answer came in a word: "Mishma..."
"Say what?"
Amid the clickety sounds, a definite word was formed and articulated: "Mishima."
"You are going to take down the Mishimas? I'm starting to you like you already!" Paul sprung to his feet and let out a grating laugh. The tree had brass. Zero in self-preservation, but one-hundred in brass. The brass seemed to be doing little for the unhappy log, though. Paul could all but feel a sad pair of blinking eyes on him, and saw the sad nudge of the sapling as the tree hunched. He sobered quickly. "You really are serious," he said to no one in particular.
It was too big a challenge for the tree. Nothing good could come from a fool's vendetta.
"Lighten up, buddy. I'll make you a deal. If you can't take down the Mishimas...," the expression on Paul's face flickered savagely, "...I will."
Glowing eyes flicked and fixated on him, but Paul wasn't bothered. The surety had settled so doggedly that it burned. The rush took over, leaving behind charged intensity that only the anticipation of battle rush could generate. It was a familiar, pleasurable feeling. Paul relaxed.
Mokujin stared at him inscrutably. The workings of its mind were unfathomable, but then, there was a change: an expression, like a smile, fluttered on its face. Paul grinned. That was a promise he would gladly keep. He'd smash down the father, the son, and the corner post if he had to. Wearing the mantle of the man who rid the world of the Mishimas would be a pleasure.
THE END
Published May 13, 2011.
Many thanks to Gypsie for the proofreading!
Thanks for reading! Slightly agrammatical constructions and inaccuracies are meant as narrative nuances. There is one more story left for a complete collection, and I hope not to keep you waiting too long.
