THIS IS NOT THE END.
Why couldn't I protect him? Why wouldn't he let me protect him? He was reason for which this world meant anything for. I would have died with him, my only real kin in the world. All my life, it had been us against the world. The world, which lied; ensnaring the gullible, only protecting those with power. The world had already abandoned us at the depths of hell to begin with; we were each other's world. Impatience gurgled at my throat, coupling with my helplessness. It burned, nowhere to escape but to explode within myself. It was different and the same from that time, when I had opened the doors of the Chapel to find my brother on the ground, writhing. Who was I now? No one knew me, nor my brother. We were known by each other. Others simply did not exist; they had, from the start, abandoned us, and we had in turn abandoned them. People were fleeting, like leaves that spilled endlessly from a tree during autumn. People who had been kind, people who had been brutal, they all disappeared in time, whether by my own hands, the Fourteenth's, or fate. It was all just darkness; grief swallowing. I would give anything to bring him back…I was rasping out with a dying voice, bargaining with the wind. The face of the Earl flashed before me, but it was not revenge I seeked. There was no emotion glistening inside any more, only hollow emptiness. My little brother, the Fourteenth, giggling, smiling, grinning, dead. In that instant, was it I who died, or was it he? It all faded away to black.
My fingers were numb. I looked at them from where I lay. They were red. Why were they red? Why? Why did I fail?... I…failed? My little brother. I had a little brother? My heart hurt. I shouldn't think about it. My heart hurt. It felt like it was going to break. My heart…could break? It seemed almost illogical. My hands hurt. I couldn't for the life of me understand why. Had I done something so stupid as to hurt myself? Was I attacked? Now, what on earth could I have done? I should be more logical. Yes, logical. There was a very peculiar, empty feeling within me that I could not fathom. Could it be anaemia? Anaemia was the deficiency of iron from within the blood. Could I have not had enough iron recently?
I looked at my bearings. I should figure out where I'm going. I couldn't remember, but I think I was travelling. Going somewhere, although to where was unknown. There was some sort of barrier that was around me; it was smeared with blood. I looked at the dark stains upon the spherical gray dome, already beginning to dry. Whose blood was that, I wonder? I looked at it, at the dark puddle near my foot where the liquid part of it all had seeped down to. I prodded it with my unmoving finger, doodling with the blood on the clear surface. There was snow all around me, but the bubble separated me from it. I sank down onto the floor once again, my arm moving my finger to make swirls with the blood. The contrast of the blood within the bubble to the snow outside was marvelling. The particles of the snow to the liquidity of the blood, the red stark within the white. I thought of the colour black. Black, the colour of darkness, which consumed things, made things pleasant. I hummed as the blood wiped away and bunched up, drying up as I kept on swirling. I made a dot with it, and it created a dot, but when I inched my way over to it, there were tiny little lines within the blood, marked by my finger. I held my bloody finger before my eye, marvelling the dark liquid, the redness of it all. I stared at my mangled hands. My fingers were twisted in an odd way, my thumb bent back where it should not be. Or was it? I was not so sure anymore. The knuckles that jointed my fingers to my hand were torn open, blood clotting at the surface but the raw flesh underneath was still pulsing. My right hand I could not open, my body would not do as I wanted it to.
I hummed absently, watching my arms, my hands, and the blood from where I lay, on the ground. I raised my hands above my head; I felt like I was falling from space that way. From the white, bright sky to the unknown down below. It was almost like a dream. A wonderful, wonderful dream.
The first thing he saw was blood.
"Bloody hell." Cross had backtracked from where he was when the Fourteenth had contacted him last, an ominous message through Timcampi. He grasped the complex 'key' rune in his hand, which the Fourteenth had given him when he had shoved him before they separated. He knew something was up. Something was going on in the Fourteenth's twisted mind, for the last message he had sent was almost certain of his death.
Don't worry, Cross. I'll come back. If you keep watch over Mana and keep him safe, I'll definitely come back. I swear it. There is and will be nothing in this world that can separate me from Mana. Even death.
At that time, Cross had been worried. The Akuma had been destroying city after city, placing the Fourteenth and Mana in close proximity with them. The Fourteenth only said that, as if sure of his death, and cut the connection. That had made him even more worried, and he had turned back from where he was.
The sight before him was gruesome. It was the Fourteenth's barrier, he knew, and it was most likely holding his precious treasure, Mana Walker. But from the outside Cross could see the bloodstains, and more disturbing was that the top of the barrier was starting to flounder away, breaking apart. The Fourteenth would never have let that happen. Cross raised his eyebrow as he smoked, looking for more clues. Unless he was dead. He gazed at the barrier. He took the 'key' rune that was handed to him, and opened the barrier up. Mana Walker tumbled out, unconscious, hands bloodied, the unclotted blood staining the white snow.
"What the freak is this? ...Hey, you. You..." Cross barked out, but his words died on his lips. Mana Walker was unconscious, his hands broken, blood clotting at the torn flesh. Cross tore his gaze away, then reached out towards the man before him. He slung Mana Walker over his shoulder and started to head for the closest village, dragging Maria's coffin behind him.
Mana Walker had been in bed for a full night, and during that time Cross had fallen asleep. When he awoke, Mana Walker had yet to wake. Cross stared at the bandages wound around Mana Walker's hands and arms. He'd taken Mana Walker into an inn and had the doctor look at him. Cross wasn't too sure what had happened to the Fourteenth, but if he was leaving his elder brother in such a state, then things weren't looking too good. Cross grimaced. He supported the Fourteenth, but if the Fourteenth died, what was he to do. He glanced at Mana Walker and thought about the Fourteenth's words. He wanted so badly to dismiss those words as bravado, as chutzpah, but it was the Fourteenth after all; the Fourteenth probably knew more about the sorcery that lay around the areas of death than he did. He looked at the wrinkles on Mana Walker's face, signs of age and wear. He'd ask Mana when he woke up. Yeah, that's what he'd do.
He asked the inn's maid to come get him when Mana woke up; he was going for a smoke. Timcampi fluttered around him, a yellow golden fluffball in the wind. Cross stared at Tim fluttering about, thinking about the Fourteenth. He lit the cigarette, the smoke lingering as he watched the sun in the sky. For the moment, he and Mana Walker were safe; Maria was guarding Mana, for now.
"Where's your bloody master, huh, Tim?" Cross said softly, more to himself than Timcampi. Timcampi merely opened his mouth, revealing a sharp row of teeth, and bit Cross' finger almost defiantly. Cross frowned. Timcampi let go, and fluttered around some more before finally settling on his hat. Cross snorted. Tim was a strange golem; one with personality. He cursed himself for thinking that; it only made him think about the Fourteenth more. He remembered the time when the Fourteenth introduced him to Mana Walker, although Mana Walker himself had not been awake to see him. It was through Timcampi, long before the Fourteenth betrayed the Earl, on a night when the Fourteenth had seemingly contacted him for no reason.
"What?" Cross growled. Tim had opened his mouth and the image of the Fourteenth was there. Surprisingly, he wasn't smiling that maddening smile of his; it was rather a more subtle smile. "What happened?"
"The plan's going well, so far." The Fourteenth said smoothly. Cross's face turned into a scowl.
"Is that it?"
"…there's someone you are going to meet." The Fourteenth said, seriously, although Cross could never tell whether the Fourteenth was serious. The Fourteenth gestured over to a figure that was laying on a bed. It was a man, perhaps in his twenties. His face was peaceful as he slept. Cross raised his eyebrow. Just what was the Fourteenth trying to show him?
"Cross, he'll meet you later, but this is my elder brother, Mana Walker." The Fourteenth said, his gaze on the man with as much affection as Cross had ever seen on his face. Cross didn't have any words to answer him with. Cross Marian was stunned. The Fourteenth had a brother. For a moment Cross thought whether the Fourteenth was bluffing and looked at the Fourteenth's face. The Fourteenth was smiling, but his smile was smaller, less mirthful than usual, but it was more genuine.
Cross blew out a puff of smoke, inhaling the cold morning air deeply. He snickered wryly. He remembered that night, he had lain awake, hours after Tim had disconnected, just staring at the ceiling. What a fool he was then, getting caught up over that revelation. He was about to reminisce a bit more when he was startled by footsteps behind him. He whipped around, his gun at the ready just in case, but it was merely the maid.
"Um…zee man…he's awake." She said, staring at the ground in timidity. Cross dropped his cigarette, ground the remains of it with the heel of his boot, and stalked into the inn, heading straight for Mana Walker's room. He reached it, and looked at Mana Walker. He was, indeed, awake, although looking a bit disoriented. Cross could understand that.
"Oi. Mana Walker." He barked out as he entered the room. No response. "Mana Walker." He said a little louder, and reached the bedside. Cross looked at Mana Walker's face, and his words stopped, altogether. There was nothing in this man's face, nothing at all. There was something wrong with him. Mana Walker's lips moved, but Cross could only hear a faint croaking sound. The maid, who had followed him, watched timidly.
"…um, he jus' woke up and stared at me, so I jus'…" The maid started to say, breaking the silence. Cross Marian galvanized into action.
"Hey, can you get me some water?" He barked; he didn't have time to be polite. The maid, although startled, complied, giving Cross some time to examine Mana Walker's face.
Mana Walker's face was blank, his eyes glazed over. Cross sat down, disturbed. Was there something wrong with him? He put his hand to Mana's forehead; there was no fever. Cross could feel frustration building as he stared into that eternally blank face, merely reflecting Cross in those eyes. He knew that Mana Walker had probably lost his voice, but that didn't explain why Mana Walker was in this dreamlike state. Damn it, what was wrong with Mana Walker? In time the maid came back with a glass and a pitcher of water.
"…mizzter, I got the water, um…" Cross took it from her unceremoniously, pouring the water into the glass and lifting it to Mana Walker's lips. Some of the water sloshed onto Mana's clothing, but Cross could see Mana drinking it. He took time, giving Mana sometime to breathe in between, and made Mana drink all of the water in the cup.
"…" Mana's voice croaked out in indiscernible gibberish before calming down and falling asleep again. A few hours later, Mana woke up again and this time asked for water from the maid. Cross was smoking outside again then; he had been alerted by the maid, who had fearfully exclaimed to him that 'zee man who be touched in zee head had asked 'er for water in perfect speech'. Unable to discern her excited speech, he walked back into the room, only to be greeted by Mana Walker. Mana Walker looked up at him as he entered, his expression dreamy.
"Oh…hello, I'm so sorry, I'm afraid I must have fainted from anaemia or something out in the woods. Thank you for carrying me here. I think I'm quite fine now, I can pay the inn…" Mana Walker said, absently and in perfect English. Mana Walker kept on blathering about unnecessary things, but Cross could not hear them as he stood there, confused. "…I think I shall head out now, I need to keep moving." Cross Marian was frozen in place as he watched the man get up and hobble a few feet before he found speech once more.
"O..oi!" He said. Mana Walker turned back, concern showing in his eyes.
"Hm? Are you okay, sir?" Cross Marian was positively alarmed now. He strode over to Mana Walker and took his shoulders, looking into his eyes.
"What are you freaking talking about? Are you all right?" Mana Walker blinked, his expression blank.
"Why yes." Mana Walker looked surprised, as if confused as to why Cross was asking him that. He looked at his hands, as if suddenly noticing that they were bandaged. "Oh, if it's about my hands, they should be fine." He used one of his hands to brush Cross' hands off his shoulder, but Cross tightened his grip.
"Mana…Mana Walker!" Cross hissed at him; the maid was still nearby. Mana looked even more perplexed at this, clueless.
"Why, that's my name. How did you know…" Mana Walker trailed off, looking into the air. He looked so dazed, it was quite scary. Suddenly he twitched, and started to speak in a very serene, calm voice, as if forgetting Cross Marian's existence.
"A clown is a respectable job. A clown… yes, that holds out candy in return for dandelions to little children. I remember one…." Mana Walker trailed off once again, and without a second look at Cross he turned around. Cross watched Mana Walker hobble away.
Cross did not know what to think. Did Mana Walker merely forget everything? Was he bluffing, to protect himself? He had felt uneasy talking to the man; it was as if that man was a shadow, as if he could break any second. With his training as an exorcist Cross had learned to read people's intentions beforehand, but the current Mana Walker was unreadable. There just seemed to be darkness, a world that made no sense. Cross couldn't understand what happened. Cross could only sense that he was wild and unreasonable, concealed by an unpredictable serenity. There was almost no will behind his actions. He was dangerous.
"Becoming a clown…what the freak?" Cross mumbled, looking at the bloodstains from Mana walker that had lingered on his coat when he had brought him to the inn. Mana Walker, from what he'd seen when he'd met the Fourteenth again, had been a man of silence, searching out the best outcome from the situation. He'd looked worn out, worrying aging his already aging face. There was no trace of that now. That calmness…Cross looked at the bloodstains once more. They were a dark, faded red, turning brown.
"..zat man…he be touched in zee head." The maid said, in a high whisper. He grimaced. He'd almost forgotten about her. But her words held a form of truth in them that Cross Marian longed to disregard. Mana Walker had, it seems gone insane. Once he had stated it, it became more real, more true. It made sense. Despair seemed to cling to Cross, dripping from him like that time when he had held Maria's open corpse in his arms, the water invading his every pore. He sat down on the bed, his head facing the ground.
It was useless then. The Fourteenth, even if he managed to come back, would come back to nothing. The older brother he'd cherished would not be there. What was the point, then? Cross Marian felt a slight dread, as well as a great hopelessness for the whole affair. He then stopped to reassess for a bit. Wait, no, this was the Fourteenth, not some random idiot down the road. The Fourteenth, who was hopelessly crazy. Don't worry, Cross. I'll come back. The Fourteenth, who kept promises. If you keep watch over Mana and keep him safe, I'll definitely come back. I swear it. He thought for a bit, and the thoughts that came chilled him to his core. If it was the Fourteenth, then he'd hug his broken elder brother like nothing was wrong. There is and will be nothing in this world that can separate me from Mana. He would blame everything on the world. And he would do everything in his power to see his justice sounded ridiculous; it sounded laughable; but when looked at it the reality of it happening was frighteningly real. When thought about it was not even a funny thought. Only the idiots would laugh at it, only those who do not comprehend. It was morbid, and it was terrifying, that kind of raw power. But he, Cross Marian, could see it, a world only existing for a soulless body and the mournful conqueror, who was mad enough to love.
Even death.
...
