Growing Pains
17: What do we do now?
Auteur : Rain
Disclaimer : Shaman King…. Doesn't belong to me! How surprising! I am only playing with borrowed toys.
Notes :
To ask; to ask; to ask.
Hello everyone!
Things are heating up. Next chapter includes one of the first scenes I imagined for this fanfic, I can't wait. Anyone want to bet on who flares who first?
Thank you for your support. A special thanks to CorporalQueen, Realgya, Solemntempo, LugiaP2K, Allie, and Julia. Reading means a lot to me and commenting even more. Thank you.
Please note: there is mention of suicide in this chapter and dark conversations related to the X-II's choices near the end of the manga. Please skip to the end of their chapter if you cannot handle this, for it is not necessary to understand the overall plot.
Previously on: Growing Pains
Jeanne receives a disappointing phone call from Luchist, who refuses to help her. Tamao sneaks up to Hao's bunker, is caught by the old priest out for a smoke, and brought to Ashil's bedside at her request. She leaves a letter to Hao, who is reminded of disturbing memories.
...
They watch her go, their icon of innocence and grace. There is a discreet sway in her walk, and Porf wants to move up to her and support her, but something keeps him back. Perhaps it is John's barely contained emotion. His medic training taught him the importance of triage, and the storm brewing inside his soulmate takes priority.
The moment the Iron Maiden disappears down the staircase, John whirls and stomps away. Larky sighs, and Porf hurries after him.
"John! John."
He grabs him by the forearm, and tries to channel his worry through their link. "Hey. Let's talk. Why don't we – why doesn't Larky make us drinks in the lounge?"
The stubborn grimace on John's face dulls a little. He glances back at Larky, who scratches his stubble. "Sure."
So they sit in the lounge, and Larky pretends he knows anything about mixing drinks. It only takes a moment for John to shoo him off. "Get out before you break something."
"Sure, chief."
Larky puts his big bum down on the stool Porf meant for John as their team leader expertly sorts out their favorite drinks, and the medic studies them both in silence. John's sharpness, Larky's placidity, they both put him on edge.
They work like clockwork, the three of them. Faced with a problem, John gets angry, Larky pensive, and Porf worried. And right now? John's hands almost tremble with anger. His gaze strays to the window, and his soul is guarded, closed off. Porf can't hear him at all.
Something dark is brewing within that beloved head, and Porf doesn't know what shape it will take, yet.
Larky, who is fidgeting with the cap of his simple beer bottle, glances at Porf before speaking up: "What are you thinking, Dingbat?"
Tellingly, John doesn't tell Larky to stuff it. Tellingly, John stays silent as he slides a mojito to Porf. Nonetheless, the medic dutifully grabs it and starts drinking.
"I'm thinking of killing Hao."
"As one does."
"No, I mean I'm thinking of doing it right now. I'm thinking of me being the one doing it."
Porf finishes taking his sip, patient eyes on John's face. As expected, he continues, eyes on his own empty glass.
"We don't have a captain anymore. He killed three of our comrades and he was laughing. I don't trust this hunt for soulmates shit either. He has to go, and now."
The tempest inside him roils into Porf's ribcage. He worries about what would come out of his mouth if he opened it now, so instead he looks at Larky.
Their dependable, rock-solid teammate swirls his glass with a blank face.
"What's the plan?"
John carefully puts the bottles away.
"We know where he lives. He's fast, sure, he's strong, but even he wouldn't be able to avoid a space-earth missile. We can put an end to this, avenge the others, be done."
"You're talking about that dumb satellite thing again," Porf blurts out.
John doesn't look upset, though. Just thoughtful.
"You only have one shot," Larky says calmly. "You can't move that thing without some very serious people noticing, let alone fire it."
"That's fine. I only need one shot."
"What about us?"
"You don't need to come. In fact, it would be better if you stayed here. Someone needs to stay, protect the ship," John says. He's lying. He's pretty good at it, but Porf knows him like his own heartbeat. He stares.
Instead of meeting his eyes, John downs his own glass.
Porf grimaces. "You'll give us all a headache."
"What matters is the amount, not the speed of consumption," John retorts with a strange smile. "You accepted the hangover when you took that seat, Porfy."
"How will you aim the SOL?" Larky is staring at John.
"It's not exactly a precision weapon."
"You can't afford to miss. What if Hao is not on site?"
John shrugs and gets himself a refill. The amber color of the liquid gleams in the light of the bar, and Porf suddenly understands. The nervousness in John spills over into him, and he understands, and it prickles his fingers.
"You're not going to just assume that," he blurts out. "You're going in. That's how you'll aim the SOL. That's how you're sure it'll work."
John grimaces, then sighs. "As always, too damn smart for a medic."
"Are you stupid?" Porf's voice breaks. "You're going in as a suicide bomber and you want us to stay behind?"
"You know what happens if you die," Larky says flatly. "We're not going to be able to defend anybody. With any luck, if we don't die, we'll become logs of wood. Share Marco's bed in the infirmary. Is that what you want?"
"No. Of course not." John's thoughts come through clearer now that he's not trying so damn hard to hide them. Porf can hear him go it's fine, I know what I'm doing. It's pissing him off. "I just – there's no other way. It has to happen and it has to happen now."
"Why?"
Porf almost yells it. He would cringe at how loud his own voice turns out to be, but the fear is surging now, obliterating Larky's calm reassurance and John's quiet thoughts of it's fine, I'm telling you I got this, it's fine.
Porf refuses to hear them. "Why now?"
"Because!"
Porf hits the table with his fist. Both men stare at him, and Porf flushes, but he refuses to back down. The words at the heart of his fist throb. "Why now?" This time he is not yelling. He just sounds choked up, which he is.
John stares at him for a long, long while, and then mumbles something Porf doesn't quite catch.
"What was that, Denbat," Larky asks quietly.
"I can't bear it," John repeats, louder. "The way she looks in the infirmary. The way she… I won't let Hao touch one hair on her head. I don't want her to come into any danger."
"Her – you mean," Porf begins, but he doesn't have to finish. He can hear the name in his head as easily as if it was his own thought. He sees it, the Iron Maiden's face when she asked them for their thoughts about reviving Ren Tao.
She looks small.
"Let's make something very clear right now," Larky tells them, his voice gentle. "If either of you go, we all go. We're not splitting up."
"We aren't," Porf echoes. "It would be too cruel."
"So what do you propose?" John isn't angry anymore. He looks at them like a drowning man. He's the youngest of them all now that Meene is gone and it shows, sometimes; Porf wishes the bar wasn't between them.
"It might be our only hope. The world's only hope."
"That's not why you're doing this," Porf says gently. "You don't know how to behave towards her. You don't know how to be her captain. You want an easy out of a hard situation."
John looks absolutely miserable.
"Get out from behind that bar."
"What?"
"Come here," Larky repeats, and when John fails to move he physically moves to grab him. John half-heartedly resists, but he's never been the strongest of the two, and soon Larky shoves him into the couch. "C'mon, Porfy."
Dutifully, the medic sits on the other side of Larky. Their thighs brush together, and Porf fancies he can feel his soulmate's mark through their clothes. When they want to, they can touch all of their marks at once: Larky's thigh and heart, John's nape and forearm, Porf's hands.
Societies in the past sometimes assigned meaning to marks. Made them symbolic of what job you should have, what role in society. Porf chooses to see his marks as an invitation to reach out. To heal what he can. His words are crisscrossed with the lines of his palms, but he doesn't mind. He loves pressing them against John's neck, Larky's heart.
Now, though, they hang limply on his legs. John's fear is finally, finally out in the open, and it's paralyzing.
"What are we going to do," his team leader finally asks. If you won't let me do this?
"I don't know," Larky says, and he's still calm. Still patient. "How long have you been feeling like this?"
John doesn't answer this out loud, but Meene's face flashes across their minds. The match. The moment it all burst into flames.
Porf squeezes Larky's thigh. "What if," he says quietly, "we just followed her wishes? She wants to become allies with Yoh Asakura. She wants to try doing things differently. What if we just did that."
"How is becoming friends with a kid going to keep Hao from destroying the world?"
"I don't know," the medic admits. "All I know is that she," he doesn't want to say 'our lady' or 'the lady Maiden' because John isn't using those names, anymore. He's not sure what they'll use now, so she it is. "She hasn't been doing well since the match. Betraying her is the last thing I want to do."
"I wouldn't ever –"
"I know. So let's just do what she wants. Be here to answer her questions. Let's voice our opinions and be her team. We're all that's left."
It hits them then. They are all that's left.
It doesn't seem so far, that time where they were all together in this room. Chris would be in the corner cleaning glasses, Kevin monitoring the jukebox to avoid conflicts, Marco et Meene just behind the window talking. Maybe Jeanne, too, exceptionally coming to spend the evening with them, sitting in a comfortable chair with a book that would remain closed. It wasn't that long ago, and.
And suddenly Larky's pager beeps. They all go still.
"I wired it to the med bay," he says. For once, even he sounds unnerved. "Something's up with the captain."
ꙮ
Tamao takes off her shoes on the steps to the house. Everything seems quiet; they must all be asleep.
On the way back, Conchi and Ponchi were loud, exhilarated by their success. But since they got to the village, the two have been quiet again. Carefully, Tamao grabs her shoes and slides the door open quietly.
She takes a few steps into the living area before the lights come on. She is momentarily blinded, and she almost shrieks before she manages to stop herself.
"Tamao," Anna says. "We need to talk."
It takes Tamao a few moments to calm her heartbeat. The lady of the house sits before a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits. How long has she been waiting for her? Surely not since she left. That would be – that would be…
Tamao nods. Anna's eyes search her face. It's not like she needs to ask anything; the question is obvious.
So, Tamao answers it: "I went to Hao."
Even Anna is shaken by that. She frowns. "Why?"
"I wanted to intercede in favor of the X-Laws." The truth comes out easier than she thought it would. Like honey, dripping off her tongue.
Anna is even more confused. "Why?"
"Because I am Hao's soulmate, and the Iron Maiden helped us out of her own free will."
The itako blinks.
"Conchi," she decides after a moment's hesitation. "Go get Yoh. We need him here."
The spirit obeys. A few moments later, the boy tumbles down the stairs. He isn't in his pajamas. How many people waited for her to return? Tamao feels very small.
"Tamao," he grins goofily. "I'm glad you're okay. I got worried."
"Y-you shouldn't have," she says, because it's embarrassing that she caused him trouble. But, in a strange way, it's not…
It's not as mortifying as it should be. As it would have been, not too long ago.
Yoh serves them all tea, and Anna pushes her cup towards Tamao. "Explain."
And she does. She explains about the voice in her head during the X-I's match, about the way the Iron Maiden transfixes her. About how sad she looked when she left the pier after reviving Ren. About the sudden need to do something for her.
"I wanted to help her," Tamao repeats. "So I did."
She can see Anna's hand shake, but the slap doesn't happen.
Yoh breaks out into a fit of laughter. It's not nervous, as she might have expected; it's bright, sincere, warm laughter.
"Stop that, you imbecile," Anna hisses, and this time there is a slap.
When Yoh comes back up, he wipes off tears from his eyes. "Of course you helped her. That's so you, Tamao."
She flushes. "What…?"
"Anna was really worried, you know? Bringing home one of Hao's friends one day, vanishing without warning the next. But you were just helping somebody, both times."
"I was not worried," Anna says sharply.
"Of course not, Anna."
Tamao opens her mouth, then closes it. "You're not mad?"
Yoh shrugs. "Why would we be? You don't choose your marks. I'm just impressed by what you chose to do."
"By how stupid it was," Anna cuts in.
"It turned out okay, so it's fine, isn't it?"
"Isn't it," Tamao echoes.
There's silence in the room. Tamao wonders if she should take the measure of what happened. Of the risks she took.
She doesn't feel like it.
"So what do we do?"
Yoh meets her eyes, then glances at Anna.
"I suppose we send out the invitations and then we host a whole lot of weird adults," she sighs.
ꙮ
Hao sits by Spirit of Fire alone that night. The letter refuses to burn away from his mind like it did from his hand. Ashil's face, too.
"Disgustingly sentimental," he says out loud, with so little effect he wonders who he is trying to convince. Clearly, the little Asakura girl knows how to make an impression. No, that's not right, either. The thought is entirely too biting, still. Trying to dismiss her.
And her name is Tamamura, not Asakura. Unlike them, she is no fool.
Spirit of Fire crackles by his side, and Hao raises a hand to comfort its enormous thigh. "I know, I know," he tells the fire. "It's never comfortable, is it, old friend."
The only reaction he gets is a gurgle as the great beast retches and twitches, head forward, as if trying to vomit an enormous hair ball. Which, in all the ways that count, he is. In the secret of the night Spirit of Fire hiccups, and then throws up a mess of magma, soot, and one charred-looking soul.
The thing that was Meene Montgomery rolls and stays on the ground, a limp amount of ectoplasm.
"Come on, now," he says, bored. "You are a ghost. Gravity does not apply to you."
Gravity does not, but being devoured alive by an elemental spirit while your soulmates howl into your link? Probably does. The thing hovers, eyes still orange and appearance melting into a hideous pool at her feet. Does she remember who he is? Who she is? No thoughts yet. Just whimpers.
None of that is his business.
"Go," he tells her, and she must still have some preservation instincts, because she does.
…
Once he is sure Meene's shadow is truly gone, Hao stands and dusts off the seat of his pants before Spirit of Fire lifts him up above the tree line.
Far below lies the X-Laws' ship. If he focused, surely, he could identify the ghost drifting in that direction, but he does not. All he can see is the bright lights of their projectors. He wonders what goes on inside. Are they already asleep? They seem like the type to turn off the lights at eight. Is she in bed? Will they wake her up for the good news? Can she even sleep?
The leader of the X-Laws, in all her glory. A child in pajamas, using scholarly English to sound wise.
Hao sighs. "Well, now I have to find another way to deal with you."
He cannot have the weapon that is the Iron Maiden Jeanne fall into the wrong hands. She might hurt Yoh, or Tamao, considering the latter's fascination with the puppet of the X-Laws. But is that even the right way to describe her?
She helped Yoh for no reason at all.
Maybe that is why he feels the urgent need to push her off the board: the Iron Maiden has become unpredictable, and he cannot have that.