A/N: Introducing Kouji. Tomoki is the last of the Chosen but he won't be here for a while.
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Wish Journeys 1.1
Three Brothers
Chapter 4/Kouji
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Another Chosen had taken the sphere.
The inhabitants of Flame Terminal were talking about it. The place was abuzz when he came. The boiler where the monster defending it was said to have been was gone.
There was nothing for him to do there, so he left.
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He couldn't fly, unfortunately. He heard there were mage Chosen as well as warriors like himself, and most of them had alternate means of transport than their own legs. It wasn't particularly fair, but he had to concede he preferred fighting with a sword than magic spells. It felt like cheating. It felt unfair. It felt like he wasn't using his own power, his own pride.
But getting to places were just means to an end.
At least there were trains. So he didn't have to walk.
And the sooner he could find the five spheres, the sooner he would be gone.
And that long-time dream of his would be broken again, or a reality.
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He consulted the map. All trains came with them and this one, though it chatted unnecessarily, was no exception.
And there were plenty of tales of monsters abroad. He would find another one to fight. He would win each sphere, and then go to the tower with them in hand and get his wish.
He'd heard many tales. On the train. In the places where he got off.
There was a monster in the Forest Terminal, where this train would go.
And he would go as well.
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He got off at the Forest Terminal, and this time there was no chatter of monsters being beat. There were many woods but they were all quiet, dark, things.
And that was exactly what he'd hoped and expected to find.
He drew his sword. The deepest, darkest, forest they said.
He struck a path and said off, ignoring the signs that attempted to lead him wayward.
Signs in a forest were ridiculous anyway.
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He stopped running into the sparse little creature looking for companions or somewhere safe. He didn't find it lonely though. It was peaceful, almost. And it was the perfect silence to warn him from a mile way when the monster who guarded this precious sphere was near.
He passed trees with fruit along the way, and finally his stomach growled and nudged him to one. He picked it: it looked like an apple. But when he bit in to it it tasted raw…like meat.
He could either walk on and find something else to eat or light a fire. He looked around. Apples were all he'd seen (except for mushrooms, and he wasn't fool enough to try those) so a fire it was. It wouldn't do to be starved and distracted while fighting an enemy. He'd had enough fighting lessons to know it was best done when satisfied.
He swung at a branch, slicing it cleanly through. It fell with three apples and a few leaves. It was a nicely sized branch too, thick except for a little offshoot. He stripped it off its leaves and made a pile with other scattered leaves and twigs and snapped off the little offshoot, using that to make the steam.
Some puffing and rubbing later, he had a small fire going.
And he kept his eyes and ears open, because if the fire didn't attract anything, the smell of cooking meat would.
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His sword heated with the apples. That was why, when he heard a growl and lumbering footsteps approach, he grabbed its insulated hilt and swung at a tree from that direction.
It fell, smoking slightly. And he heard a grunt of pain behind it.
So his enemy was slow.
And a fool, he added to himself, as the beast dragged itself to its feet. It went for the apples again.
He parried with the burning sword and the beast recoiled in pain, knocking in to another tree.
At least the hide seemed to be thick.
He smirked. It would have been boring otherwise.
Though, truthfully, it wouldn't have mattered. It was an empty smirk. An empty fight. Just a means to an end and this was the fastest way to get there. The fastest way to search, and to find.
He almost felt sorry for the monster.
He swung again. The monster stepped on to the fire and flames scattered.
The lighting didn't change. It wasn't yet afternoon and the sun was bright in the sky anyway.
The monster struck.
He dodged nimbly out of the way, not noticing how his sword brushed against branches and leaves and left a smoky trail.
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It was a relatively slow fight, considering. The smoke made it so. It slowed them both, until Kouji jumped on to the higher branches and waited for a perfect strike.
That, and it had been quite difficult to find a weak point without staying too close too long.
Because the thing might be a lumbering fool, but carelessness would get him crushed.
He wasn't careless. Ever.
And, finally, he found the weak point.
And though it took a few hammers, he broke it.
The monster fell, smoking like the rest of the forest.
And that left him free to follow the footsteps almost obscured by smoke to the orb.
He clicked it into place. The swirling sphere shrunk and became a brown gem in his hilt.
That was two down and three to go.
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His first orb had taught him that strategy. He'd wondered aimlessly all night until he'd been warned away from a certain mountain ridge.
Since nowhere else had yielded anything, he decided to go.
And there, amongst a black devil-like monster guarding the place, was a shiny green orb.
There'd been a catch. The devil was like a tyrant. He had it all. Servants. Lackeys. Prisoners.
And even though he wasn't a stranger to fighting with a sword, it had been nothing like those sparring matches in a dojo. It wasn't a fair match. It wasn't a match he could have won, the world against one.
The prisoners had decided being killed to give him an opening was better than waiting out their lives in oppression.
And those who didn't want to hadn't been saved anyway.
Because the tyrant hadn't given a damn.
In the end, everything had been smoking. His sword had taken in the fire again too. Shining bright. And there'd been the green orb, waiting for him. The first step to his wish. A simple wish it had seemed, back then, but already it had blood on it.
But it was more than that, and he'd learnt that on the mountain too.
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He'd snuck in, originally. Tried to find out information. Tried to steal the orb…because that would've been the simplest, the easiest, and the safest.
Their wishes were the same as his.
But theirs was impossible to grant.
He had the power to grant it. One of the prisoners had held his hand and begged him to fulfil it. His own, because it was near impossible for them. One person, Chosen or not, couldn't destroy such a powerful tyrant of his own.
And he had no companions. No friends. No-one who could help.
No-one that he wanted to help either.
Because if it was another Chosen, they would have a wish of their own. As important as his, perhaps. To them. To himself, his was the most important.
He could have either left or fought. Both of them were selfish decisions because he could not die for someone else.
In the end, they made the choice for him.
At least this time there wasn't a choice to make.
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He noticed too late. The small creatures screaming "fire" and fleeing as he walked through the forest to its other end. He looked back. He saw smoke still. The smoke of battle. The smoke of his little camp fire. The smoke from his sword.
Smoke didn't necessarily make a fire. They could have been overreacting.
Screaming fire was a good way of getting people running. That was one of many things they'd mentioned in self-defence. One of those many things that could be misused. Mistaken.
He'd just come from there and he'd seen no fire. Only smoke. And dust kicked up and a bunch of other stuff.
Smoke didn't always come with fire.
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The smoke had come with a fire. He heard it afterwards, how a large part of the forest had burnt down.
He hadn't meant to do that. He hadn't needed to do that.
But there was some intangible feeling to the world that told him it didn't matter.
Maybe it was how unbelievable it all was. How dreamlike. He'd walked through a door, flown through a test and suddenly he had a sword and armour and was called a "Chosen", one of precious few with the chance to fulfil his wish.
And, despite being grossly outmatched in the first battle, he'd had enough "allies" to win him the bout.
Like a game. Like a dream. Like a place where nothing wrong was permanent, and nothing was wrong.
A place where things did come true, until reality shone.
The faster he got there, the more time he'd have with his happy ending before that.
What happened in between didn't matter.
