~The Fire, the Ice, and the Wind~

-7-

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When one does not know of themselves, it is hard to fathom the feelings of others.

Such is a case that has killed.

Love is wasted on one who cannot find himself- she made that mistake.

She shall pay. Not in Hell's infernal wrath, mind you, but from afar. In the human world.

He's still there.

(He's still there too.)

It's a torturous game of so close, yet so far.

Her love is so close, yet also far.

She remembers. His awkward way of speaking, his twitchy habits that earned his fateful injury that changed her own life in ways not told.

Not told to him, anyway. But she had screamed it to the unforgiving night sky over and over again. The sky remained mute.

She'd curse and flounce away to her own tent. The next day in battle, she'd be aggressive and he'd tell her to calm down, Riyu. You'll hurt yourself.

(He was an unknowing hypocrite.)

Now, all she could do is follow the Girl to camp.

The white-haired man followed her while she was following the Girl.

Riyu had watched him enough to see a stabbing pain in his violet eyes. A constant migraine; a sickly agony from the core of his grey soul.

Midori was his name. When he looked at her, he looked slightly sick.

Fine.

If that's how it was gonna be, fine, Riyu thought.

She thought of the few that she knew. The people that remained.

Rayn. He's her first thought, always.

Herself. Dead and bitter.

Midori. Also dead, but plagued by a deep, dark depression.

Roku. He was definitely alive, but without his sister, light fled from his sky.

The night was coming. There was nothing they could do but watch and hope that the war would end.

For Riyu, the war ended a while ago.

It ended with a flash of light and blood.

Beautiful.

Haunting.

Solemn.



-=([{ Sakura }])=-

You know what? If I have to, I'll freaking sleep here. It's better than crying in my room, alone.

… Then again, there IS Hideo to deal with. He's pacing now (well, as much as you can pace when you're transparent and the room is only fifteen feet by twelve feet), and his arm is getting cold.

I checked behind his back.

I look at my hands. I don't have the energy to even be concerned. It's too much thought. I don't want to think. The memories will hurt; I'm not ready to feel pain anymore.

I'm just numb now. No feeling, no pain.

Yet, every time I look up and see him pacing, I start to lose my comfortable numbness.

I remember now. I loved them, they loved me.

I was their daughter.

I betrayed them. They betrayed me.

It was revenge. I took revenge on them for leaving me, and then the world took them away to show me how I'd sinned.

Hideo suddenly halts, foot still in mid-step. His stoplight red eyes widened. His ghostly form flickered and blinked like a candle sputtering out.

His body twitched. A gloved finger pressed down on the desk. The rest of his muscles responded, jerkily lifting himself off the freezing tan surface.

The last thing he does is open his eyes.

Still stop-light red. That's what they are. A stoplight. I once knew two brothers that had crimson eyes, too.

But their eyes were the color of fresh blood.

Hideo's not moving much. His back is stiff as a board, and he is cursing under his breath in several different languages.

Language is a funny thing; if you're not bilingual, you may know how to cuss in several languages anyway. Shows what society has come to these days.

In a pained and breathless voice, he spits out a ,"Kuso…" It's Japanese. Never mind what it means.

"You okay?" I ask. My voice is pathetic, and I disgust myself. He notices my frustration, and he's confused. I can see it in his eyes.

They dilate.

After a moment of silence and uncomfortable eye contact, he lifts himself out of his desk. Something cracks painfully. And something else.

When he's finally up, he winces and stretches upwards and even a little backwards.

A whole series of creaks and painful- sounding pops follow the movement.

Right about now, I realize that he's bending backwards more than usual. It's a common fact that girls are more flexible than boys, right?

I would never bend that far without thinking. And here he is- a fifteen year old who is definitely a male- defying the rules. Again.

He seems to do that. Defy rules. Maybe it's a hobby.

I clear my throat, "Are you double-jointed or something?"

He straightens and scrutinizes me thoughtfully.

"Maybe. Not visibly." He replies calmly. His voice is less painful now, and back to its normal level of smooth boyishness.

"Then how on Earth did you just bend back that far?"

"… Anko."

It was the only answer I needed. Heck, that's all anyone needed to know. Maybe she dislocated every joint in his body or something.

We were silent again for a while. He was standing, I was sitting sideways in my desk's chair. It was peaceful.

I could immerse myself in the tiny room's presence. My own presence.

Hideo's presence. That too; he was calm too. But his calmness was ingrained. I had to find mine. It was a center of balance.

I focused on each body of peaceful thought, one by one.

The room: It was inanimate, but it had life. The walls with peeling paint that Anko's voice had made flee from the very surface it was painted on. The scuffed, dirty floor. Lastly, the four desks.

Oh, the desks. They were alive, too. They saw us and drank in the contentment. The ripped one gave a low grumble of agreement. My desk closed its eyes and basked in the cool warmness. The clouds-plane desk- Hideo's sister's old desk- was singing. It knew the flow and rhythm of the universe, maybe.

I liked to think so.

The blank desk, you may ask. Did you forget it, Sakura? It's still there.

Yes, it was there too. But it fed off the other desks for its peace.

Second, me: I had come to terms with myself. Some people say that everything happens for a reason. That's bull, I say. Some things just happen. For instance, the plane crashed because a system failed. Nothing more. Nothing less.

My parents were dead. I remain.

I'll see what I think about that later.

Hideo: I don't know what he was thinking. I never will, probably. His spiky head kept it thoughts for its spiky self.

But the softness in his contrastingly sharp appearance told me what I needed. Stop-sign eyes were dulled; sharp, tanned features relaxed; even his midnight hair looked less pitch black than usual. It had dark, dark brown in it when it was in light.

But you had to look. If you don't really look at Hideo Shinigami, you get nothing. You won't have a clue what he's thinking or feeling. He's a big blank for you until you take the time to scratch off the thick, dark covering.

I only just started.

He lifts his head, breaking the moment. He looks at me mischievously, eyes twinkling.

"Let's get the hell outta here."

A few minutes later, the door swung open due to the death-cold hands of a teenager with way too much knowledge and too little common sense.

The door didn't stand a chance.


~#((( Kazuki )))#~

Dear Nameless,

She caught up to me when I tried to escape. Grabbing the back of the collar of my shirt, She was not going to let me go without some kind of passable excuse.

"Hey. You're not going nowhere." She starts dragging me by the scruff of my neck away from the school.

Oh, Lord. If I'm late, Yukio's gonna wonder where I am and if I'm way late?

If I'm way late, I'm going to be killed.

"K-k-kikyo! Wha-" I stutter as I'm lugged along the sidewalk. People are looking at us funny. It's no wonder. It is odd, a girl single-handedly dragging a boy (who is resisting) along the road when he should be at least twenty pounds heavier than her.

Error in their logic already: I'm probably not twenty pounds heavier than Her. She may even be heavier than I am if I'm on a bad week.

Well… maybe if I'd ever attempted to do any physical activity, I'd be able to escape. But alas, She is stronger and faster than me.

Life sucks. I stop dragging my feet and follow obediently. She looks smug.

I sigh. I feel depressed.

She stops at a decrepit old place. It is squeezed between two equally grungy houses that are slightly larger.

Fumbling with the keys, Kikyo She chooses the rusty key and unlocks the door, yanking out the key when She's done. She actually has to put Her foot on the door as leverage.

I moved directly behind Her in case She fell off the steps.

"Freakin' key…" She mutters darkly under Her breath. I can't help it. I suppress my laughter by coughing.

Not good enough. She mock-glares and marches inside, dragging me with Her.

Even the interior smells old, looks old, probably is old. I wonder why She'd live in a place like this.

For some screwed-up reason, I liked it. It was better than home, with its smells of pain and hatred. I guess I'm just clueless.

She goes off, darting around in a very disorganized, frustrated manner. Eventually she comes from upstairs (when did she get up there?) with a bag in her hand. Grabbing my arm, she forcibly shoves me into a rickety kitchen chair and glares at me.

"Gonna tell me where you got this and this?" She jabs a finger at the cut and the black eye to punctuate her words.

I look up, eyes widened innocently. My bangs are hanging in my face haphazardly. It was annoying, but… I always win.

She's losing.

She loses. Sighing angrily, She grabs Neosporin® and fixes up the cut on my face while I sit and wrinkle my nose at the smell and the fact that She's messing up my hair even more than it already was.

Which was a lot.

When She's done, She notices the writing on my arm. Glad that nothing too secret is on the visible part- my hand- I quickly shove my pen in my pocket.

Be back in a second.

She just asked me, "Do you write all the time? I mean, you write without looking."

I had nodded. She looked miffed. I laughed, and She frowned at the scrawl on my hand (It was branching out on my fingers now. I really needed to be able to sit and write in my book. Which is you.).

"You never mention my name, dummy. I do have one. It's Kikyo," She says and adds, "Don't wear it out."

Still half- laughing, I agreed to refer to Her by name more often. I guess I'll stop capitalizing, too… I feel bad. It made her special.

She is special. I'm not writing on my hand anymore, by the way. This is later, at home before Father gets home.

Anyway, I had started on the homework with Kikyo (don't wear it out) until I knew I had to get home or else.

Even though I can hear Father's heavy footsteps on the gravel, I'm still absurdly happy.

I took off the bandage on my face.

It'd just make things worse.

…I'm still happy.


-{=( Shiro )=}-

Itachi hasn't called me

He must be talking to

Sasuke

But I'm worried

That he will let his emotions get

In the way

of course, I

am on my way

to the camp

and it's surprisingly easy to

slip along unnoticed

through the sparse

amount of people who still walk the streets

with their drab clothing

and bad memories

hanging above their heads

laughing

at human folly

but that's enough

for I have arrived at my

destination

the gritty pavement

with scraggly weeds and peeling paint jobs

and the bigbigbig warehouse with broken windows

I walk down the secret steps

down into the hushed silence of the dark

dank basement

the tents glow with lights

from inside

I call out

"Rayn?"

but there is no answer

I know why

it's Riyu

she joined Midori and the others

just a few days ago

and Rayn didn't know what he felt

and now he's confused and sad depressed

I find him in the med tent

he's hunched over with his head in his hands

fingers knotted in raven hair

his eyes must be open

cat yellow staring at his palms

he doesn't even look up

though he heard my footsteps

"Rayn? She's here."

Golden eyes bore into mine as his head snaps up

Dry tears decorate his face

And I smile sadly as I remember his claim that he'd never cry again

"Liar. You cry. To do so is only human, Rayn."

"What is it, Shiro? Why are you here? You don't… don't… why are you here?"

"She's here. She wants to talk to you."

His eye go wide

And he stands

And she's standing next to me

And she's shocked at his bedraggled appearance

But I am not

For the uncle told me that love makes a man look haggard

Quoth Shakespeare

"Riyu? So… so you…"

I put my hand on his shoulder

Feeling the smooth fabric of his black t-shirt

[for once not professional]

And feel for the dormant power within

Channeling Riyu's shadowy form to him

His pupils dilate

leaving only a sliver of golden yellow

and he reaches for her hand

she steps forward

"Oh god… what you said was true, Shiro… I'm sorry… I'm sorry I doubted you…"

she's smiling

and he's blind to the feelings behind the gesture

because he's Rayn

and Rayn is clueless

eternal

but there is a man

in the shadows of the tent

flickering with the candlelight

Rayn tells her he's sorrysorrysorry and she listens and forgives him

(the flicker watcheswaitsdies)

I follow the white ghost

He's stained with blood

But what ?

I choke on bile

It's him

It's Midori

And there is the wounds

That he had

Before he died

Unearthed in ghostly form as

The woman he fell for loves another man who doesn't have a clue

It's a bullet in his chest

And in his temple

And his limbs are bent

At funny angles

All broken

Blood cakes the side of his mouth

And I am assaulted by the truth

'Once upon a time the broken, staring corpse of a suicide victim in a city near the side of a building was shot in the chest and the head by laughing criminals and that man never, ever forgot.'

The truth is painful


_-{[( Hideo )]}-_

I know why she did this to Sakura, but locking me in here is pointless.

… Maybe she just didn't want to carry me out. I'm still detached. And now I'm antsy. Very, very antsy. So I'm pacing, and poor Sakura is left to stare into space. She looks at her hands, unscarred by labor but still strong.

In a sudden movement, she winces. It's not registered by her mind, but I know that she is thinking.

I can only hope that she is going to a better mental state. However…

She keeps looking up at me and then not.

(The ache is starting)

Wonder… why…

(Now it's going up my spine like a knife)

My eyes widen. I manage to keep silent while the searing pain shoots through my consciousness.

Then- yes. I'm back in my body. I am very, very stiff.

I try to move, lifting myself off the desk. As soon as I move, my joints complain miserably.

Great. I'm stiff as heck. I'm in pain, too.

Cursing in every language I know, I pull myself into a semi-normal sitting position and she's watching me and her eyes are really green.

… Okay, so that was random. Whatever. My throat is so dry, I don't recognize my voice for a second.

"You okay?" Her voice is weak. I think my instinctual confusion showed, because she just stares back blankly. I never answer her question. After all, it's a little pointless- do I look okay?

… The answer is no, fool.

After a few seconds of green vs. red staring contest, I attempt to stand. My protesting body goes on strike and my muscles scream in pain.

I decide to stretch backwards to get my spine to function in a quasi-normal way.

I don't notice that I went so far back that my head was only a foot or so above desk height. That is, until Sakura asked if I was double jointed (or something).

I told her I might be but not visibly after standing up and considering my answer a second. She rarely blinks when I make eye contact, unlike most. I appreciate that.

"Then how on Earth did you just bend back that far?" She says, incredulous. I pause a bit. I can only summon up one word that summarizes this completely.

"… Anko."

She's comfortable. I'm curious, I want to know why she's so at ease with me in the room. I won't lie; I know I freak people out a lot. Only people who know me well can be this… this…

How do you describe Sakura right now? Peaceful. Yes, that's right. Perhaps Anko's craziness worked.

(The reflected melancholy in green proves me wrong.)

Great, now I'm worried.

It's laughable. Hideo Shinigami- you know, the kid that routinely gets in fights at school and scares little kids just by looking at them- is worried about Sakura Haruno, a girl who lost her parents and has bubblegum-pink hair and green eyes.

That's kinda absurd. I find sympathy only after stabbing the shell around it for days. I'm scared of sympathy.

So I'll help her run from this. I'm an expert at running.

("Let's get the hell outta here.")

The door swings open, into the darkened hallway.

Expert at running, huh?

She has no clue.


-~+{[( Kikyo )]}+~-

I grab the back of his shirt as we leave.

"Hey. You're not going nowhere." Wow, I sound so ghetto compared to him or Sakura or even Hideo and we all know Hideo is a gangster.

… A future gangster in the least. Pfft, and no, I'm not ridiculous for thinking I know something abut gangsters when I really am quite clueless about the inner workings of such people.

I stroll away from school towards my house. I don't know why, but I don't even care about interrogating him anymore as he struggles.

"K-k-kikyo! Wha-" Oh god… He's stuttering again. A little part of me thinks it's adorable till I spray the thought with MACE and run away from it screaming.

I notice how light he is. It's like dragging air. Does he eat?

He stops trying to get away and walks with me like a civilized person. He's still behind me, though. Kazuki has major inferiority complex, I guess.

After a bit of walking and tripping (Kazuki), we get to my apartment of wonder.

Wonder= Crap.

I rummage around for my key and shove it into the rusted keyhole. I feel like Kazuki is watching every movement I make. It's not creepy when it's Kazuki.

Warmth crawls onto my cheeks but by wrestling with my house key I effectively will it away. Cursing under my breath, I eventually yank the key out and kick open the door.

I grab his arm with a little more force than needed and walk inside my veritable rat-hole. As soon as I'm in, I march away and around my house to find my Neosporin® and bandages.

Running up one of the numerous rickety staircases, I pull stuff randomly out of my closet till I find the first-aid Ziplock®. I grimace as I pull out a moth-bitten hat and soon after an old bra of mine.

(I didn't know I still had that…)

When I secured the bag, I trudge back down and into the cramped kitchen.

When I got Kazuki into a chair, I immediately badger him, "Gonna tell me where you got this and this?" Thrusting my finger at both of his wounds.

…Visible wounds. His sleeve is over his arm where I grabbed him earlier- I'm still not sure if he is hurt there too.

I make eye contact and immediately regret it.

He must be the master of Puppy Dog Eyes. All he has to do is look through his unruly bangs and look… well…

Think of the cutest animal you can think of. That's what it looks like. You get a sugar overdose just seeing him.

SIGH. Getting out the much labored-for Neosporin®, I patched him up and tried not to think about how weirdly soft his hair was.

After the cut was taken care of, I noticed the pen all on his hand.

He's gonna get ink poisoning.

"Do you write all the time? I mean, you write without looking." I ask him.

I start to read what he was writing. Huh… he was basically summarizing everything that was happening. He puts away his pen, probably for politeness' sake. Then he nods.

Oh, for the love of god, he's laughing at my annoyed- ness… Wait a minute. I just noticed… he doesn't use my name. Ever. I frown at the blotched, almost unintelligible mess on his hand.

"You never mention my name, dummy. I do have one. It's Kikyo," I tell him, then mischievously say, "Don't wear it out."

He's still stifling laughter when he says, "Okay." His voice is very young- sounding. I mean, we are young, but… Kazuki has an air of innocence that I just don't understand.

It's okay. Laughing with him, I grab my homework papers and we laze around doing math and social studies fo a good two hours (Anko gives a crapload of homework) until he quietly got to his feet (we were sitting on the floor for some reason…), thanked me and left.

I watched him walk down the road. He looked like any other teenage boy- baggy, ripped jeans; white long-sleeve shirt under a black tee- but the way he jumped at little things and looking at the sidewalk nervously thing...

There was a bounce in his step today, though.

I smiled like an idiot all night.


…_-=[( Itachi )]=-_...

He emerges from the shadows naturally, like oil. Slippery.

It's undoubtedly him. Sasuke. My brother.

"Didn't you hear me? Get out, Itachi." He repeats, as if it will have an effect on me. His voice has adopted a bit of the sickly sweet drawl that snake, Orochimaru, has.

That man was a disease. A virus- and my brother had caught it.

My poor, shattered, foolish younger brother.

"That's no way to greet me, foolish little brother."

His bloody eyes narrow.

"I don't need to greet you. Get out or I'll be forced to kill you." His voice goes blank, without the slightly mad undertone.

I know he'll do it, too. At this point, he must have at least a switchblade on him- maybe even a pistol.

I make an inventory of the weapons on my person.

- A small Leatherman®.

- A few throwing needles in my suitcase.

- A poison capsule.

But most of all, I had myself. And I was the greatest weapon in this room. Sighing and closing my eyes, I prepared for his attack.

His body tenses. Here he comes.

I automatically duck as a bullet goes flying over my head. Rolling to the side and launching myself at my smaller brother, I took him by surprise and snatched the small gun from his hands.

He looks down the barrel of the gun. Sasuke is sweating. If I fired, the bullet would be dead-center in his face.

I never miss. Ever.

I lower the gun and stuff in into my belt after emptying it of bullets. I turned and walked to the shadowed door.

"I will take my leave. You have told me everything I needed to know, Sasuke."

His red eyes bore unblinking into my back.

"… That girl."

The eyes narrow in malice.

"She loved you. She would have died for you- and I am ashamed by your weakness."

He's suffocating as he spits, "She was weak. Love?" He scoffs, "I have no need for such idiocy. That is true weakness."

Both my mind and my suit are still immaculate.

His logic always was as bad as his aim.

Foolish younger brother.


Old couples titter as two children, a girl and a small boy, laugh and splash in the puddles after a rainy day.

The little girl, no more than six or so, is clean and wears a nice raincoat.

The scrawny boy? He was smeared with mud and had no coat at all.

(he was shivering)

Eww! Now I'm all wet, Kazu!

So am I! Hey, look…

He points to the horizon. A beautiful rainbow adorns the grey sky.

Oh! A rainbow…

It's pretty…

The two innocents jump on a bench to sit and watch the rainbow.

The old couples smile.

I want to be as pretty as a rainbow someday!

The little girl waves her arms in a self-important gestures.

Green-grey eyes watch her with a peculiar light within.

He laughs again and shakes his head, messy dark hair plastered to his head by water.

She looks at him, startled.

He speaks his thought, a small, childish blush dying his cheeks pink.

Nah, Kikyo… you don't have to wish for that.

She cocks her head sideways, violet eyes wide.

He smiles brightly.

You already are pretty like the rainbow, Kikyo…

His words haunt a teenage girl years later on a train.

She looks out the window and wonders if she'll ever see a rainbow again.