Chapter #2: What Happens When Nothing Really Matters?
This day marks the final day of Shiro's resting, in which I've had to sit around and think for days upon days on end, back to back, continuously, and if I'm not already going far enough, monotonously! Yes, I'm bored, for all of you out there who don't get it as of this point.
So once Shiro could get back to the "meaningless life he lives," I could do the same. I would rejoice, but have already done that, hence my good mood.
I sat outside upon the chair I once used to, eyeing the newspaper over and heckling at the misfortune of others. Heartlessness is not a crime, I should say. Just look at where I am now, a master of Pokémon, unanimous leader of the island on which I live, top Pokémon breeder, yadda, yadda, yadda, et cetera, et cetera. Indeed, my life tended to become awfully boring. There was nothing to achieve, no more goals to be reached. I was everything I wanted to be, and if I could do it again, I'd refuse! Nothing is more tantalizing than having to endure endless disgust of one's life in a paradox of imminent misery. And so another day drags on…
"Oh, they're hosting a tournament," I noted disdainfully, reminding myself only of how I never lost the pathetic dog-and-pony-shows they dared to call fights. "Yawn."
Shiro, who'd kept mostly to himself, nodded his maw in agreement. "I watch. For about twenty seconds."
"Lion could pay attention longer than I can bear to watch." I spat, closing the newspaper after scanning the comics page (the only thing I ever look for in the paperJ). "And he has the attention span of a small rodent, no less."
"Seems so, with how much alcohol that numbskull consumes in a day." Shiro barked spitefully.
"Spitting upon Lion's reputation again?" I sneered warningly, brow narrowing.
He snorted annoyedly. "That buffoon has a reputation?"
"Indeed, Shiro, everyone does." I replied bitterly to his inquiry. "Though yours seems irreversibly tainted."
"But I am a noted and respected historical figure. What of your precious Mewtwo?" he retorted with a natural drawling tone to his rather pesky voice.
"I'm sure he's made a name for himself, whether it be a well-known one or not." I desperately attempted to counter his valid point as he sat back and smirked, nodding as though humoring himself.
An awkward silent moment passed as I returned to the comic's page in the newspaper.
"I'll enter that tournament." He offered quietly, picking at a giant scab along the back of his hand.
"You'll give them no meaning to their insufferably petty lives." I warned him, focusing on the black words splattered neatly across the page.
"I find pleasure in such." He reminded, showing a bit of fang as he ended his sentence.
"Ah, I remember now."
Shiro nodded and assumed control, morphing into himself and scanning the periodical for a date and time. "Apparently, it begins tomorrow. That gives me a bit of time to prepare." He muttered.
Rising to his feet, he began to pace about, ending at the farthest reaches of the yard. He leapt over a fence and ventured into the woods behind the property, eventually wandering into the city.
A bustling place the city was, filled with people going about their daily lives. All seemed to be far too busy to pay him any mind, or chaos would've ensued. They passed him without so much as a glance, and he became caught in a crowd. His irritation clearly possessed his face, his gnarled lip curling dangerously and his peculiar, frightening eyes narrowed. He was shoved around and jostled insensitively, near buildings and places he'd never be seen normally. Eventually, his patience broke and he began to shove back, uncaring of what happened to those who were unfortunate enough to be in his path, if not chortling at their misfortune.
Without warning, though, an angry townsperson rammed into him, causing him to fall through a pair of doors into a building nearby. Landing on his back, he cursed the person and pulled himself to his feet. Looking around, he noticed a delicately detailed room, cavernous and echoing music with a familiar ring to it. All eyes were turned to him as he seemingly disappeared, slamming the doors shut behind him.
He sighed in relief, shaking his head and shuddering. "A church… eeeyergh." He shook his head and took a quick look at the outside of it, spitting upon the ground before it and walking away. "Atheist, I always wish to remain." Came his hissing statement as he made his way back into the crowd and walked amongst the city-folk. Occasionally, his thoughts would wander back to the creatures inside the church he'd fallen into, and he noticed that he'd spotted but one Mewtwo inside.
"Lion." He uttered quietly to himself. "Everywhere I go, that ignorant pussyfoot seems to be hanging about."
"He goes to church." I protested. "You just happened to be forced inside. It's not his fault the two of you are drawn to one another like that."
"Are you calling me gay?" he snapped.
"Yes, Shiro, you being a relentless homophobe, I'm calling you gay." I retorted with the utmost sarcasm.
"Good." Came his harsh snarl. "Because you know I'd kill you for calling me a homo."
"I know."
He continued slowly through the town, head hung earthbound and dark, devilish voice in a constant muttering growl. His arms were crossed behind his back, as he tended to do when thinking, and his ears would twitch on occasion. His paw pads softly scraped the pavement with his dragged steps, his tail held in a neutral position. His slitted nostrils flared wider and his thick, prominent brow furrowed in concentration. With his obsessive thinking, he didn't notice that he'd run headlong into a great furry beast.
"Hey, watch where you're—" the fem shouts, halting suddenly.
Shiro stands and brushes himself off, looking up to see Kasumi standing before him. "Kasumi…" he greets hesitantly.
"Hullo, Shiro!" she returned brightly, smiling with her glittery fangs. Her tail wagged subtly. "What are you doing in this part of town?"
"Here?" he repeated. "Wandering aimlessly down the meandering pathway that is my life. Yourself?" he turned the question toward her.
"Something of the sort." She muttered. "I was on my way to a rave location. They're going to meet tomorrow and I wanted to secure a place while I'm ahead." She smirked. "Wanna come?"
A slight chuckle escaped his throat. "Sure, why not? I've nothing better planned."
Her tail swung energetically, face splayed with an adorable brightness. "I'll see you there!"
He nodded and saluted her as she left, looking away with a bit of a smirk. He stared at the ground blankly, his mismatched eyes lowered softly in a taken kind of manner. Without warning, though, his expression narrowed and he took back a hand, slapping himself roughly. "What are you talking about, Shiro? You'll never be in her league. She's too good for you." He cursed, ending in a crestfallen state and sighing. He shakes his head slowly. "Just get on with your worthless existence and stop dreaming, boy. It's happened before, and it's bound to happen again." As he made his way down the stone street and stared at his feet while he walked. "Rejection's your middle name, Shiro-boy."
Later on that day, after he arrived back at the house, he took a seat inside a protruding bough in one of the largest trees.
"My sorrows are far from over." He muttered quietly, his head lowered onto his chest plate and eyes closed latently. "They've just given me a few years' break."
"Shiro?" a light voice called from the base of the tree.
He peered over the branch on which he sat, and spied Lion standing below him. "And what could you begin to want?" he snapped in return.
"I was merely curious." He answered, reflecting the cold incentive. "I was just wondering what you were possibly doing setting foot inside a church, especially being who you have become."
"I'm enthralled to say that I was shoved inside by some asshole with no direction." He snarled, turning away from Lion.
The older Mewtwo leapt up nearly half the tree and climbed to the branch on which Shiro sat. "Shoved inside? How unfortunate." He teased, sniggering to himself. "Or is it merely your duty to scruple and fester?"
"You must be off alcohol, or your terminology would never extend to the words that just escaped your large mouth." Shiro spat in the older Mewtwo's face with his harshest intentions.
"No, I just have an extensive vocabulary for a drunkard." Lion returns the sentiments in his own retort. "And trying to make fun of me won't work, kiddo."
Shiro takes a slash at Lion's head, missing by centimeters. "Don't call me kiddo…"
"Why not? You're clearly much younger than me, as you once did mention…" the elder Mewtwo recalls to spite the boy.
"That still gives you no right, you insufferable moron."
Lion recoiled slightly, raising his brows. "Well, well, young Shiro, you never used to act like you do."
"Those days are over, Lion. It's been years since I was nice." He ended in a vicious tone, leaping onto the ground and beginning to walk away.
Lion followed him. "That's the first truthful statement I've heard from you in ages, boy." He mutters darkly. "And I think you're starting to lean back toward how you once were; deny it all you want."
Shiro's eyes flared and he turned back his head. "You're one to judge."
Lion's expression changed drastically for but a moment, and he shook his head. The small boy cocked a brow at him.
"Never mind, Shiro. Never mind." The light voice of the elder echoed as Lion turned away his head and kept walking.
"You know, Lion, you're a horrible liar." Shiro wheedles.
"The subject is closed!" he demanded in a harsher implement than he'd anticipated.
The two walked quietly for a moment.
Shiro strangely looked back, a suspicious expression crossing him. "Weren't you the same Mewtwo I met several years preceding my death?"
Lion gave him a half-innocent look in return. "That I was." He offered, smiling. "Though alot has changed since then. When I was out to kill you… only so long ago… I noticed that a little too late."
"If I were anyone else, I'd thank you." Shiro sneers slyly.
"I only wish I could do more." Lion finished, hand over his heart. Slowly, he turned away and exited.
"Yeah, he's the one. Shame things didn't turn out better." I muttered quietly, butting into people's conversations as always I tended to do.
"You're nosy." Shiro snapped in return.
"Not nosy." I corrected. "Just in the right place at the wrong time."
A deafening silence passed before, again, I spoke.
"Get used to it. I'm here forever, Shiro-boy."
"That's what I was afraid of." He growled.
"Yeah, and by-the-by, I was just wondering whether you knew that that Mewtwo you met so long ago is, allegedly, your father?" I simply told him, with not so much as a word out of monotone.
"Father!?" he repeated. "Him!?!"
"So I've heard." I assured him.
"That's impossible." He figured, shrugging and beginning to walk again.
I snorted upon his statement. "You're so sure about that?"
"Positive." He barks. "That man has as much chance of being my father as I do winning the lottery. Lie, cheat, and steal, I may, but never do I gamble using anything but a life."
"How reassuring."
"So you see? He couldn't be." He responded in verse.
"A liar's never trusted." I informed him, point-blank.
"And I admit to being one. So what's it to everyone else?" he retorted, in such a manner that meant I should say no more. "If they happen to have a problem with me, it's their own fault. Nothing's wrong with me but a small incident concerning my blind eye! Even before that, it was a different color, so why does it matter?"
I chose not to respond. He sounded as though he was frustrated, and I knew enough not to add to it. He wandered into another tree for a short rest and found it quiet enough to fall into a deeper sleep than he'd ever been in.
Within several hours, however, he stirred and found it to be early in the night. The sun still threatened to sink below the horizon and marvelous colors adorned the deep sky, though Shiro chose to look away. His good eye focused almost doggedly upon the cold ground as he made his way out and into the city again. He'd made a promise to Kasumi, and he was a man of his word, though occasions were rare when you'd get it.
He entered a building unfamiliar to him, though he knew what lay within. It was a rave, much like our own Grotto, and that night would be yet another party for the late-night dancers.
He walked slowly to a counter and sat promptly, looking about for the Arcanine, Kasumi. This was nearly the only reason he'd come, and he wouldn't waste his time if she wasn't there. Sluggishly, he took a look around and spied no Arcanine. Though his eyes did befall upon a girl dancing who bore the signature stripes of the orange dog. He shook his head doubtfully and took another look at her, with her golden tail and locks of pure silk, it seemed, also the same shimmering, watery gold of the brush tail. Her bright eyes glittered in the low light, a mysterious deep blue hue.
She seemed oddly familiar, he thought, as he watched her dance almost hypnotically. Quietly and subtly, she noted that he was watching her and made her way over upon her thin legs, mostly hidden by her skirt and combat boots. She stood before him, smiling serenely, hands folded before her jade skirt, bushy extension from her backbone waving with a great energy. A short giggle escaped her lips and she greeted Shiro kindly. "Shiro!! You came!" she exclaimed, staring at him with her alluring ocean-blue ocular orbs.
He nodded slowly and looked at her puzzledly. "Kasumi?" he queried, tilting his head and squinting one eye.
"Of course!" she told him, chuckling. "Who else would know your name?"
He took a moment to consider this and looked back upon her with slight disbelief. "But you were an Arcanine. How are you human now?"
"You didn't know we could become anthropomorphic?" she inquired of him, perking her ears swiftly. "All Pokémon can do it, and we're technically human once we become anthros, as they're nicknamed."
He still gives her a questioning glance, as another half-human approached from the distance. This man was unusually tall, seven feet at least, with dark blonde locks, not the watery coloration of Kasumi's. His eyes were a soft violet, shining in a friendly manner, and he wore piercings up and down his left ear, with a particularly large jewel on his right nostril and a ring on his brow. "Even I'm an anthro sometimes." He input in a highly familiar voice.
"Lion?" Shiro queried, adjusting to see the normally seven-or-eight-foot Mewtwo as a human of similar height.
He nods feverishly, jingling his various rings and bangles. "That's my name!"
"He just happened to come, too." Kasumi informed Shiro quietly. "Not that I mind, him being an old friend and all, but he has his moments."
"His blonde moments?" Shiro asked insensitively.
"Watch it, Shiro-boy. You never know, you could be a blonde, too." She forewarned.
"With my attitude?" he countered. "I'd be shocked if I was."
She shrugged. "Look at Shadow, he's blonde."
"Lion's dad?" Shiro repeated warily.
"The very same." Kasumi assured. "Believe it or not."
Shiro recoiled slightly and looked away temporarily. "Well, alright. I'll take my chances. How does one become a human, exactly?"
She stepped away and led him to where Lion was. "He'll tell you. Sometimes, and with boys mostly, anthros change naked."
Shiro nodded and Lion smirked. "So, little Shiro-boy wants to be a human, eh?"
"Indeed." The youth answered. "And I've been left with you, so don't mess it up."
Lion waved a hand, shoving away that idea. "Nah, the process is foolproof!"
"And you haven't managed to screw it over?"
"Not yet." He answered, assuring the boy.
"I'm impressed." Shiro told him truthfully. "Lead the way, then."
Lion walked into the male bathroom and directed Shiro into one of the stalls, informing him on the process of morphing. "It's really simple, Shiro. Just think of a human with your features, the tail, the ears, and et cetera, and your DNA will oddly react, making you an anthro. Very odd, and no one's figured out exactly how it works, but it does."
Shiro concentrated on a human, adding white fur, Mewtwo ears, and a violet tail to the image, and his muzzle separated into a nose and a mouth, his face reforming slightly and shrinking. His features became more human, his limbs shortening and shifting into a more delicate form. His three fingers split into five, and he sprouted a wild mane of pitch black locks against his head for the most part, but protruding everywhere and uncontrolled.
Lion waited outside, tapping his foot somewhat impatiently. "Oh, yes, and one thing I forgot to mention. You have a predetermined look, so you won't end up looking like the human you thought of, most likely."
"That's a relief." Came Shiro's voice, slightly lighter than normally it would have been. "Because I'm no good with thinking of humans."
"Exactly the point. When anthros morph, humans typically think we all look the exact same." He shook his head matter-of-factly. "Not a chance. We're all as different as those humans are."
Shiro stumbles out and holds his head in his left hand, around which was a spiked bracelet, similar to the one on his neck. He wore a light gray shirt and black cargo pants, with a tail hole already in the back. His eyes were roughly the same, but he had the build of a short child, proportioned to be cut directly in half at the waist.
"Not bad, little Shiro. Kasumi'll love this." He mutters, pulling Shiro out by his wrist (The one without a bracelet.)
Shiro was then thrust onto the dance floor and he flailed about until he rammed directly into another person. Painfully, he slid down onto the ground, moaning unenthusiastically.
Kasumi picked him up, having been the one he'd run into, and stared him in the face, eyes flaring in shock. "Ooh, I like, Shiro. You're positively adorable!" she pulled him into a hug and his head lay limply over her shoulder.
He came to his senses in this state and looked over to her half-consciously. "Dizzy…"
"Dizzy?" she repeated, holding him by the shoulders before her.
He twirls a hand before her and nods. "Spinning… I don't like being small enough that people can throw me."
"Who would?" she asks, standing him up.
He nods and holds his head, pigeon-toed and bent at the knees. He blinked slowly and waved his tail, earning his balance from his once ungainly state. "Alright, I think I'll be fine."
"Good, 'cause you go to a rave to dance!" she squealed, as "Disease" by Matchbox 20 began.
Knowing that Kasumi was a very friendly individual, no one would ever suspect anything of her, but I knew better. Though she was quite easy to get along with, she seemed oddly attached to Shiro, as though she'd never had any friends before; though evidence proved otherwise—she'd mentioned that Lion was an old friend, so that arose other suspicions… she could've been very outcast in her younger years… or recovering from heartache. I thought over that last sentiment as the two danced to the nearly disco beat of the lively song; contrasting Matchbox 20's normal tempo. They were quite the pair, an unlikely yet almost destined couple.
As the song ended and another, less pleasant to the ears of a rocker, began, they headed back to the counter. Shiro stared at Kasumi a moment while she wasn't looking, and quickly turned forward upon her approaching gaze. Only when addressed would he dare look back, with his sullen and frightening eyes, dressed with a bold defiance that was rare to find in one of his standard. A short black goatee adorned his chin, the wiry hairs jutting through his white fur that he would occasionally poke at.
Kasumi opened her mouth to speak to Shiro, but broke her concentration by a person tapping her shoulder. She turned back and a different song replaced the former one.
"Could I have this dance?" a boy asked, smiling quietly and holding out a hand.
She took a glance at Shiro, who stared downward and waved a hand in a sort of a shooing motion. "Go ahead." He mumbled dispiritedly, turning away. Her expression dropped from a quirky glee to more of a pleading sorrow. She looked back to the boy and nodded, taking his hand and leaving.
"Why'd you let her go?" a voice asked from far above his head.
He glanced upward and stared into Lion's face, finely formed but delicate, in a girlish kind of way. "I don't know." Came his morose reply as he laid his head on his arms. "I guess I just thought she'd be bored sitting around here with me."
"Don't kid yourself!" Lion scolded, slapping Shiro's back. "She's into you! Just look at her…"
The two glanced back and found Kasumi still dancing, but more lethargically and with less gusto than before.
"She's not even enjoying herself, and now she thinks you don't like her." The older Mewtwo continued, stuffing his face with various snack treats in the meantime.
Shiro shook his head slowly at the embarrassing man sitting next to him. "You think she really likes me that much?" he inquired hopefully, his face still emotionless, any clue at all to be found within his dialogue.
"What do you think, genius?" the elder mocks, hitting him squarely in the back of the head that time.
"That you're abusive and incredibly gullible; you moronic clown." the lad did riposte, with his sharp tongue and quick wit.
"A Foole, am I?" Lion attempted to retaliate. "Do I jest, or do you simply refuse to accept that you might be wrong?"
Shiro happened to have no witty retort to counter the statement. He gave a steely glare to the other male and stormed away. "I'm leaving." He called backward.
"Shouldn't you tell Kasumi you said goodbye?" Lion called desperately.
"She'll only be mad that I left." He growled, slowly morphing back into the form of a Mewtwo and exiting.
Lion shook his head shamefully. "She'll be worried if you don't."
Meanwhile, Shiro darted down the street on his fours, headed for the woods that were his home for many years. He made his rest in a tree and curled his tail over a branch, laying over it longwise. "As an assassin, I follow my code. Never trust anyone." He spat dirtily, with a gruesome anger to his face. "No one can be trusted."
"No one, hmm?" a mysterious voice, yet definitely male and lighter than even Lion's, echoed from nowhere as a pair of teal eyes shone from the shadows.
"No one." He hissed into the distance, impervious to whom he was speaking.
A Charmander, of possibly three times the normal size, stood out on the limb before Shiro, staring him in the eye. "You may know me, I'm Char-Char. The fabled Charmander who's also the youngest brother of Charie the Charizard. I'm quite well-known around here. As you seem to be, boy."
"Boy?" Shiro repeated, bearing his yellowed fangs.
"Indeed. You're younger than I." Char-Char explained, a clawed hand on his chest. "So I've heard, at least."
"Just like everyone else." Shiro barked, turning away and rolling onto his side with his back facing the lizard.
The fiery reptile leapt in front of him and tapped his foot. "Who or what are you angry at?"
"Lion." Came his answer, sweet and simple.
"Lion?" Char-Char repeated, sitting near the base of the branch. "That's a first. Everyone else seems to like the guy."
Shiro tossed and turned over. "Indeed, the great fool."
"Great fool, you say?" Char-Char mimicked, shaking his head. "You're a riot, Mewtwo. Indeed, I've never heard an insult toward the man in all my days. Concern, maybe, but ne'er did any toss a spiteful sentiment his way."
"I have reason to believe different." Shiro returned, crossing his arms hotly and laying his head atop them.
"Reason, you say?" the Charmander echoed, crossing his own short limbs and cocking a brow slyly. "What reason have you to dislike him, other than the fact that you're polar opposites."
"Has anyone ever told you that you're nosy, Char-Char?" Shiro sneered.
He smiles. "No, it's more curiosity than nosiness."
"He killed me." Shiro said plainly, looking back forward.
"Killed you? He doesn't seem the type to murder." Char-Char paused. "And you don't seem the trustworthy type."
"I would swear upon something, but I've nothing other than my grave." The Mewtwo boy responded crossly.
"That would work." The lizard added, muttering quietly. "So he killed you? For what reason, perhaps?"
"He found me and I pissed him off." Came the growl of an answer, as Shiro recalled the event.
"And if you lie?" Char-Char quizzed, giving Shiro a wary glance.
"May I be eaten alive by ravenous wolves." He uttered darkly.
"I see you are confident in your reasoning." Char-Char mumbled, climbing a bit higher. "Watch yourself, boy. Condescension will one day be your downfall if you're not careful."
"And your nasty habit of repeating people will one day get you thrown off a cliff." Shiro spited in a serpent's hiss.
Char-Char howled laughter. "You're quite funny, kid. Build on that instead of your worst habits. People will like you better."
Shiro snorted and shrugged off the thought with no consideration. "Like I'm going to take advice from a walking, talking bonfire."
"It got me places. Just trying to help you. What's your name, by the way?"
"None of your business." He snapped coldly.
Char-Char shook his head. "One day, Mewtwo, I hope we become friends. Then we can look back and laugh upon this day. Until then, you'll never find true sublimity."
Shiro twitched his nostrils as the Charmander exited. He rolled onto his back and stared into the ever-darkening sky, still with fading light and a touch of pink and gold. Forcefully, he wrenched his eyes away from the scene and lowered the eyelids of his mutilated face gently, thinking himself into a disturbed sleep.
When the next day stirred him from his most serene hours, he awoke with a clear head and memory of only the fact that a tournament was being held that day. Nothing else distracted him from his destiny to fight as he rose, stretched, and leapt down from the tree in a highly feline manner.
He made his way into the city at approximately noon and headed for the arena placed obviously in the middle of town. He approached the crowded signup desk, still half-asleep, and began to fill out the sheet, leaving several spaces blank due to his privacy fetish. When he handed the judge the sheet, the man took a look at it and called Shiro back.
"I'm sorry, sir, but you must fill all the spaces." He called to the Mewtwo, who stopped dead in his tracks.
"What was that?" Shiro inquired fiercely, turning back naught but his head.
"Sir, do you have a name?" the judge inquired.
"Indeed." Shiro answered coldly.
"What about a Trainer?"
"Never." He spat in immediate response.
"I apologize, but you must have a trainer to enter this competition." The judge said quickly.
"Do I?" the boy Mewtwo thought aloud, re-approaching the man at the counter. He held up a clawed hand to the person's throat.
"N-no sir…" he stammered in return, fearing for his life.
"No?" Shiro repeated, smirking. "Good." He lowered his hand and set off again to the mini-arenas for elimination rounds.
As soon as he arrived, he caught the most attention of any fighter there. Of course, he was the only one that was gray when he was supposed to be pale white, not to mention his tiger-stripe scars. Many gave him only a solitary glance because he seemed—and was—hostile, but others stepped the line and still gawked bewilderedly. Yet more even began to converse with one another about him behind his back. He quickly became even more ornery than he already was. This is not a good thing to do… but what did they know?
He sat hastily and set his head upon his collarbone to rest a bit before preliminaries. His eyelids shut callously and he daydreamt for a short while until the announcements came for the fighters to report to the stadiums.
"THERE ARE OBVIOUSLY MANY CONTESTANTS HERE TODAY, AND WE'D—FIRST OF ALL—LIKE TO THANK YOU ALL FOR COMING. THIS IS A PRESTIGIOUS EVENT WHERE POKéMON WILL BE PITTED AGAINST ONE ANOTHER FOR THE CHANCE TO WIN TITLE OF THE STRONGEST IN THE DIAMOND LEAGUE!" the PA announced. "BUT ONLY SIXTY-FOUR MAY COMPETE AGAINST ONE ANOTHER, AND THERE ARE LITERALLY THOUSANDS HERE. WE'LL NARROW IT DOWN WITH A BIT OF PRELIMINARY ROUNDS. THIS WILL BE MELEE ONLY—NO ITEMS, NO HELP FROM TRAINERS. APPROACH THE STANDS FOR YOUR NUMBER IF YOU WISH TO COMPETE."
Shiro lazily rose to his feet and ventured over to the number box, sticking his left hand in and heading over to the boards. They readied to put his title when he showed his number; 42; to the man with the marker. With great hesitation, he told them to merely put him down as '?' for all fights. He didn't want to reveal his name, for what reason I know not.
Preliminary battles were five-monster free-for-alls. The individual contestants would attempt by all means to incapacitate the other four and walk away victorious. The last competitor standing would move on to the real battles.
Shiro thought nothing of it as he was called up and approached the arena. He sat noiselessly and looked upon the other four challengers of which he was to face. A Jolteon, Snorlax, Charizard, and Girafarig returned his emotionless stare, the Jolteon actually smiling and tousling his already disheveled fur.
"I don't think he should be a problem, lads." He announced in an Australian accent. "Look at 'im, he's already had a bad run-in with something-or-other." He smirked and turned to Shiro. "What'd you do, get in a fight with a Sandslash and lose?"
Shiro merely narrowed his prominent brow, mood already half-spoiled as of. He gave this warning glare for a moment before they all laughed, and at last, the bell rang to signal start. He leapt and began to massacre the small dog with his claws and fangs, sparing no mercy and leaving it in a trail of blood. Slowly, he turned and advanced toward the others, seeing fit to the Jolteon's punishment.
The Charizard took to the air and the Girafarig turned on the Snorlax, slowly wearing it down. As the Charizard hung airborne for a moment, it decided that it, too, would attempt to bring down the lethargic Pokémon as opposed to the hotheaded Mewtwo. The Snorlax rose, tired of all the abuse it was taking, and approached Shiro… who was calmly cleaning his paw. He towered over and cast the cat into dark shadow with his massive bulk, leaning forth as if to Body Slam.
Shiro shook his head and took a swipe at the mass of blubber, claws just sharp enough to slit the tub of fat and send it falling back in tears. It landed instead upon the Girafarig and left the Charizard rather alone. Slowly, it lifted into the sky as Shiro watched it offhandedly, as though amused that it was actually challenging him. As the lizard dove, it shot flame in Shiro's direction, which he easily pounced over, landing atop the Charizard's back and latching his titanium claws into the orange scales, causing it to roar out in agony and lose balance, falling and skidding to a halt on the stage.
The miniature Mewtwo sat calmly until his win was announced, as he'd predicted—and with good reason. It was a rare creature who faced the man and lived when he was out for blood.
"ROUND 2!" the PA announced. "THERE WILL BE FOUR OPPONENTS THIS TIME AROUND!"
Shiro drew a languorous breath and yawned. "Child's play." He murmured in his dark, villainous vocals, called to another arena with three other contestants. These contenders consisted of a Houndoom, Persian, and Arcanine. Two young male dogs and a sassy feline fem were to take him on, he thought? The only beast he was the least bit wary of was the Houndoom, being a dark type, and a lethal opponent if he was bitten with a Crunch attack. Darks went out of their way to taste a psychic's blood, and he reeked of the powerful mental energy, much like the scent of a prey animal.
He curled upon the cold floor, laying his tail against him and taking a short rest. "Now, the last one of you standing, wake me up." He told them callously, waving a hand and shifting into a comfortable position.
"Is he insane?" the Arcanine whispered, as the Houndoom shook its regal maw.
"A regular Psychic-type… thinks he owns the world." The black hound spat, curling his redden lips.
The Persian hissed. "Tomcats…" she sneered. "So arrogant…"
"Well," the Arcanine began, stepping forth as the bell sounded. "He must've been pretty good to get past the first round. Let's humor him awhile."
"Besides…" the 'Doom growled. "We've got another kitty to chase in the meantime."
She slunk back, fur rising. "Boys and dogs…" she hissed. "Can't escape them."
The white-tiger Mewtwo slumbered as the wolves tailed the Persian fem, finally cornering her and taking her out. Double-teaming seemed to be the main interest of these intrepid mongrels; as they turned slowly toward the snoozing Mewclone.
"So, you want to get the first hit, or shall we just take him out all at once?" the Arc suggested.
"Actually," Shiro interrupted, "I think I should get that honor." He arose to his feet and turned toward them, a sly grin crossing his short muzzle, as his eyes flared to their glittering extreme. He leapt and in a flash of white, slaughtered the Houndoom with his diamond-sharp claws. He turned his head back and stared menacingly at the orange mutt, a near insane glint in his eye. "How about you? Do you surrender, or shall I maul you beyond recognition as well?"
He slowly took a step backward, chancing a glance to both sides as he recoiled. "He… he just took out a Houndoom…" he stuttered aloud. "I'm not looking for trouble… I'll quit." He offered, lowering his head. He stepped off the ring and leapt away, bounding off into the crowd; never to be seen from again.
"I figured as much." Shiro muttered, sitting in the midst of the arena and laying his head down once more. He swirled his tail in the most content he'd felt that day, as he waited for the judges to call down the last survivor. With slight lament, he left his post, having settled into a gory battleground to rest, something that oddly sparked emotion within him. He seemed to feel most relaxed after he'd made a kill, but a part of him could've cared less for manslaughter and chaos… A part of him missed Kasumi, no matter how he tried to deny it.
Eventually, the little moderators of this event readied the actual arena for battling, and called the last 64 standing to the stage. They drew a number between one and sixty-four, Shiro uncaringly taking #44. Somehow, he seemed drawn to the number four.
The first fight would host #34 against #29. Shiro was neither of these dubbed numbers, so he didn't bother to even watch the match. What the others did was of no concern to him; his mind was elsewhere. As the matches dragged on, the announcer would occasionally comment upon the fighter that'd gotten #1. Saying she was something of great endeavorance, he went on about how she was a sight to behold.
"Yeah, just like every other girl that made it this far in the tournament." The scarred Mewtwo spat, very set in his old-fashioned ways. He was greatly used to the fact that girls couldn't fight; and believed no less. Though he'd never come across a female who could physically subdue him, so his headstrong and admittedly somewhat ignorant theories tended to prevail.
As soon as his number was called, he sauntered up to the stage lazily, only to mow down and storm through his opponent with lax effort. He paid no mind to how prestigious his foe was, he needn't lift more than a finger for a victory. He was obviously entered in an unfair tournament. Or an exceedingly easy one, so far as he was concerned.
Eventually, it came to the end of the third round, and all the competitors had fought at least three battles, half of them sent packing by their opponents every round. Only a weak eight fighters were left of the original sixty-four, but they were the best so far. Again, Shiro was easily included in that remaining number, and so was the mysterious #1… she advanced near easily as the hotheaded Mewtwo.
As numbers 4 and 56 were called to the stage, Shiro sat at the edge of the wall before the arena, head upon his collarbone as he lay silently and deathly still. The match went to 56, and 20 and 62 were assigned to fight. With 20 victorious, #1 and 39 up next. Number one obviously took the match, winning in such record time that Shiro actually cared to glance upward, just as the fighters had left the stage. Next was his fight against 27.
The trainer sent a Nidoking up, while Shiro calmly resumed his old post on the stage, and the announcer called for the start. He waved his lengthy tail, covered with scars of a bloodred hue. His oddly chosen eyes focused upon the giant rabbit Pokémon as it let out an earsplitting roar. The stadium shook a moment, and Shiro shook his head slowly, standing and advancing toward the Nidoking, his sleek form discernible by the manner in which his bones caused his skin and tasseled fur to shift.
The Nidoking took a step forward and ducked his head, jamming his horn forth as the assassin leapt, clutching to the back of his neck and sinking his yellowed fangs into the armored skin, holding his position with his tail and serrated claws. In a moment or two, the Nidoking fell to his knees and forward, as Shiro slowly moved away, dropping off the stage callously.
And the semi-finals arrived with a vengeance, Number 56 would face #1, and 20 would then square off against Shiro. The two other contestants were summoned to the arena, and in another few seconds, #1 stole the match. Twenty and Shiro became opponents shortly afterward, the smaller-than-average Mewtwo staring down the impressively-sized Alakazam.
He waved a hand uncaringly toward the other psychic type and batted his eyes. "They expect me, one of a race called the Lords of Psychics, to face that?" he demands, to see just how short this foe's fuse was. I remembered that Alakazam were known for their incredible patience, but Shiro still wanted to taunt the other psychic, attempting to test just how far those limits stretched. "It barely seems capable of making it this far into the rut." He continued jeeringly.
As the start of the match was announced, he smiled, as the Alakazam appeared to be confused, and only harmed itself by attempting an attack on him.
"Swagger." He chimed amusedly, watching the other stumble about the arena. "Very useful." He pounced upon it and tackled it to the stage, taking the last of its remaining energy. "Odd. I thought the match would last longer." He said to its trainer, tantalizingly superiorly.
The girl recalled her Alakazam indignantly, heading away. The match for the finals would be #44 VS. #1. Shiro remained perched atop the stage, his haughtiness for good reason. While the other seemed to be his strength, give or take, she was still but a female to him.
As she approached the stage, however, he'd barely heard her steps, though she was a rather large opponent. The smooth, legato way to which she moved made scarcely a sound as she leapt onto the arena. She stared a moment and recoiled; from what Shiro could distinguish with his acute hearing alone. He slowly raised his eyelids, and caught an eyeful of a magnificent Arc, her watery blonde locks and mysterious dark blue eyes unmistakably familiar.
"Kasumi." He muttered, a slight smirk upon his wry face quickly replaced by a frown. He waved his tail impatiently and glanced aside, emitting a slight chuckle. "And here I was thinking that you were just another fem who lucked out." He told her, his peculiarly alluring vocal tones melodic and dark in the same essence.
"And here I was thinking I could spend at least one night with you, getting to know you better." She mocked him harshly, her emotions torn between frustration, anger, and disdain. "But it seems you'll never change. Once a bloody coward, always a bloody coward."
His bold eyes flashed dangerously. "Coward, am I?" he inquired, clearly not impressed.
"Afraid of your feelings." She corrected, as the sounding of the match was indicated.
The two lunged out, both on a similar note; deathly dangerous and out for blood. But in any other sense, opposite as two individuals get. The assassins locked claws, equally matched in speed; but Kasumi began to push him back, clearly the dominate in strength. He ducked under, lashing at her softer underside and causing her to leap back in shock and surprise. He countered her movement and leapt atop her back with his claws extended, landing forcefully to take out a bit of flesh, but she bucked him away easily, his dominate in defense as well. Though his carefully calculated movements and sharp, precise executions suggested that his dexterity and agility were more than enough to meet hers.
For a moment, they squalled, taking less than a fraction of a second to attack and becoming a whirlwind of orange, black, red, and off-white. A rumbling in the Earth began to shake the ground, though it went ignored by the intent fighters, so immersed in combat that their cares did not extend to a mere trifle such as this. As the ground quaked again, people within the audience had already begun to vacate, knowing that the island was a host to many natural disasters like earthquakes and tidal waves.
The two continued to quarrel, completely oblivious to the shaking earth as they countered one another with their own sides of what was beginning to happen. The argument became more personal than the tournament had originally intended, but the stadium had been vacated in the meantime, while they still fought.
A gigantic fissure split the earth under the stadium, splitting the two down the middle whilst they were both in midair, causing their landing to be much deeper into the earth than first intended. Indeed, they dropped for miles into the eternal abysmal trench that was result of the earthquake. Strange, though, that it'd only opened up underneath the two, and not anywhere otherwise… and I could've sworn as they were falling together, it'd begun to close behind them.
When they landed, Shiro upon his hindquarters and Kasumi upon all fours, one glance around revealed this place to be abandoned… or at least vacant. Buildings that had begun to decay and deteriorate were displayed everywhere, obstructing the view of the redden ground. A sign, beaten and abused, stood in a horrid shape nearby, stating: "Welcome to Hell"
"I'll say…" our short-statured hero(Hero…right…) agreed with the sign, noting the words and taking a glance around. "What a place to have to continue existing, eh?"
Kasumi nodded, making no noise but a grunt of approval. She took a few wary steps, surveying the empty landscape. "Are we dead?" she inquired.
"So." Shiro began, breaking into a tiny smirk and chuckling. He was one quick to find things out. "You are a future hell-bound yourself?" he questioned, causing her to flinch. "It seems I'm not the only one who's trying to hide something."
"At least I can admit something when asked." She countered.
He frowned. "At least I have the courage to ask." He remarked darkly, staring seriously at her.
She glanced back, an unreadable expression across her face, but by how she kept moving, as though nothing had been said, she knew Shiro had a point.
Speaking of the Mewtwo, he arose to his own four paws and trailed her, only to find by reading the signs that there was also to be a tournament in the hells that day. There are, in Imn, nine Hells, each specified for a different specie or sentient being. There is a hell for humans, a hell for divine beings like dragons, several more for un-indicated beings, and one for Pokémon. The Imn, a race of Necromancers from a planet unknown by man, are much like spirits. They can fuse with an animal of their choice and become an anthro, they can say spells to raise the dead, and they can pray to their gods—six of them—to bless them in some way.
The gods—the original four, were Dashina, the eagle high goddess of law; Murin, the horse god of war; Emukus, the jackal god of influence; and Shura, the lioness goddess of beauty. Women were of higher rank than men on Imn, so the high goddess proclaimed that it would be a crime… after she'd already spawned a child with Murin… for a full-god child to be born. But Emukus and Shura broke the law as well, and there were then six. The two second-generation gods were unable to be located, and no one knows who they are other than the gods themselves.
The two combatants, Shiro and Kasumi, reached a sort of arena set up much like the one from Earth, and approached it, knowing they'd been brought there for a reason. And what better reason than to fight in the hell's tournament? They'd begun to quarrel amongst themselves to practice, and all the old friends of the two happened to be there. Meaning the Dark Lord as well…
"That bastard is going to need a fucking body-cast when I'm through with him…" Shiro cursed, indicating that he still, of course, hated the false Persian.
"Don't think you're alone." Kasumi said back. "I have qualms with a few of these fucks, too."
At her profane sentiments, harsh and yet heartfelt as his own, he seemed to question his position toward her, and only felt an insecure neutralist stand against her. The two walked in silence, to approach the great stand where several beasts awaited them.
"So, they've arrived!" an Articuno announced to the others.
"We were waiting for you…" a Houndour jeered after the bird spoke.
The two remained silent, saving spite for when they were to combat their enemies. Kasumi would chance a glance back at Shiro every so often, and it was announced that all fighters should approach the stage.
"Alright." A beast tells them, advancing upon very starved limbs and a sleek black torso that curved with his strides. A skull helmet covered his glowing red eyes, two great horns curling back into a smaller and smaller circle until it came to a point—similar to the horns of a ram—adorning his noble crown. His bloodred muzzle came to a point, as did the tail at the base of his spine, leisurely following him, devil's point slicing the air. A grand silver cape flowed behind him, attached to the skull necklace about his bold, powerful neck, and about seven pairs of ribs dressed his back, all of varying sizes. "If you didn't know already, I am somewhat like the devil of Pokémon hell. I guess you know you're not dead, but you're invited to the tournament, so enjoy yourselves while you can, you loathsome bastards." With that, he turned away, disappearing and reappearing to preside over the tournament.
The two exchanged skeptic glances and stepped toward the arena, as they'd been instructed.
"Now, I know who you all are; you've been here at least once in your pathetic, half-assed careers. So just know one thing: I will call you by your titles, so if you have a problem with your name, indicate it and I'll be sure to make it worse. Alright, how about that Falk bird and the Sasaki boy." He muttered, waving a sleek paw.
An Articuno assumed his place upon the stage, but there was a pause, as no 'Sasaki' advanced. The bird of frost shifted his gaze about for a moment, looking for this 'Sasaki.'
"Wait a minute…" I muttered aloud in thought. "Sasaki? That's Lion's last name…"
"What?" Shiro demanded of me, scratching at his head. He lowered his head a moment in thought.
"Come on Shiro, we haven't all day scar-butt." The black dog jeered in his direction.
"Sasaki…" he ended. "Damn, it's been so long I've nearly forgotten that that was my name…" he shook his head and approached the stage, sitting atop it and studying his adversary.
"Now that I have your attention, begin your fight." The hellhound continued.
Shiro snorted back at him, charging forth to pounce upon his opponent; however, the bird took wing and left the stage, hovering in midair while the cat turned back below. He coiled and sprang, catching the scaled leg of the ice-bird and clinging with but a mere claw.
The screech mustered by the Articuno echoed out as he lashed at the Mewtwo's hand with his free talon, attempting in vain to shake him off. He pecked downward, slowly losing altitude with the extra weight, and was caught in the side of the head by a swipe from the young cat. Both fell through the 'sky' and Shiro leapt off in time before Falk hit the stage.
"The winner, scar-butt." The hound continued. "Next I'll choose… Tora and that… fake… Persian guy."
The two approached the stage without hesitation. They knew well from being down there that you don't mess with the Devil. Though his black hound seemed to take pleasure in pitting natural enemies against one another. He didn't hesitate in his next decision putting a Charizard up against Kasumi, with lack of a cat to face her.
Kasumi took out the Charizard with somewhat simplistic ease, and next were a Tauros against a Venusaur. The Venusaur won the match and the next opponent for Shiro was the Dark Lord once more.
"So we meet again." The youth sneered in his dark voice, pacing before the shapeshifter cockily.
"Hey, hey!" The devil called. "Turn into a dog or something! Come on, come on!" he laughed aloud at the perturbed state of the tan cat. "Do it!"
The Persian hissed and his shoulder fur ruffled. "I'm not your dog, you can't make me."
"Not your dog?" he repeated, much less amused than before. "Then maybe you'd like to be my mouse instead?" he glared at him with his empty glowing eyes and he slowly morphed into a Pichu.
Shiro hissed laughter, watching the Pichu intently. "I like to chase mice…"
"Pi!!" the Dark Lord called out, eyes wide and bright as he tried to morph back.
The hellhound laughed aloud, smiling sinisterly. "Go ahead, scar-butt. Have some fun."
"You know…" he thought aloud, so that only the Pichu could hear as he approached and cast a shadow on the small mouse. "I think I'm starting to like that guy."
As the small rodent took off, he pursued it closely, the hound watching and having a grand old time from the looks of it. He kept huffing a powerful laugh, watching the yellow rat suffer.
Shiro finally caught up to the former Persian and lunged, leaving it in a pool of blood and licking his paw afterward.
"Now geddown, kitty! Shoo!" the dog made a motion for Shiro to leave the stage and the Pichu was turned back into a Persian and escorted away. "Next… ehhh, I'll go with the Arc bitch and the leafy dinosaur."
Kasumi and the Venusaur were set upon the stage, and the grass-type was easily scorched in an effortless implement on her part.
"And now, my little marionettes, the two winners—Scar-butt and Arc Bitch—shall face me." He growled, approaching the two. "The little one's full of tricks, and the girl's just fun to mess around with. It's been a looonnnngg long time since someone's been damned badly enough to face me, and… well… just call this an advance on your payment to me in the future." He told the both of them, sitting calmly. "Ready?"
Kasumi indicated no answer, staring at him a bit indignantly, but Shiro nodded—a tip of the maw.
"Good." He said calmly, launching toward them and missing Shiro by an inch. He stopped immediately and leapt back, the two meeting with claw-and-claw and fang-to-fang. Kasumi assisted by tackling the devil from the side and taking him to the ground for a split second until she was thrown off, landing in a heap nearby. He turned back and leapt, landing on Shiro's back and having the dog's claws tear the flesh on his back. He rolled and backed off a split second, turning back to lunge for the throat of the hound.
In the meantime, Kasumi had returned, taking the dog by the horn and pulling him along by it. Meanwhile, Shiro clung to his side with his serrated claws, attempting to get a hold on the neck, but he was taken by the shoulder and tossed off while he dealt Kasumi a powerful blow using his paw. He approached her as she landed, taking her maw in the same paw and glancing her over. "Hmm… a beauty of a fighter to be hanging along with such trash." He chanced a glance toward Shiro, who was painfully rising to his feet. "Such a shame she's not my type." He smiled demonically. "Never stopped my father… did it?" as he stared at her, one eye flared open and she shook her head loose.
"You pervert!" she shouted, slapping him across the face. "Don't even think it!"
"Oh, but it's too late for that, Kasumi." He still wore his crooked smile. "Far too late for that."
She glared at him as he advanced, but he fell forth as Shiro dug his claws into the other's back, taking a good hold and ripping inward with his clear rage.
"She said don't think it." He hissed to the hellhound. "I advise you listen."
He snarled back, a bloodred lip curled dangerously. "What, are you her lover or some such thing?"
There was a pause from all sides, and the hound tossed him away. "No answer? Hmmm, I guess that means no." he turned back to Kasumi. "Now, where were we?"
He was caught in the head that time, by a mouthful of yellowed fangs. He recoiled and shook his crown violently, cringing and staring directly into Shiro's blind eye. "You!" he barked, lashing against his back repeatedly until the flesh was nearly unrecognizable. "Why are you always getting in my way!?"
Shiro still held his ground, clenching his jaw harder into the muzzle of the dog, his claws finding some new target every slash. He eventually caused a tiny crack in the dog's top jaw, and was whipped off, landing on his neck and skidding for a few yards. He rose to his feet with a single leap, his ominous glare adorning him, the one that got him the nickname Hellface. "I may not be her lover, but…" he hissed darkly, lunging. "I'll still fight for her." He ended in a vicious snarl, clinging to the hellhound's face again with his titanium claws.
The hound threw him away, narrowing his brow and hitting him repeatedly in the head while he was down. "You want to fight for her?" he asked once, backhanding the Mewtwo. "Now's your chance, fucker."
Kasumi charged, leaping and clenching her jaws into the back of his head. She tore at the flesh of the dog in a furious bout, until she was bucked off and struck down from the air.
"So, you won't agree with me, will you Kasumi?" he inquired, looking to Shiro and sitting next to him. "How about I kill him and then see how you like me."
She painfully returned to her feet and advanced slowly, with somewhat of a smile. "You know… maybe you could kill him." She grew a more and more devious grin as she approached. "Go ahead…"
He recoiled slightly, glancing between the two. "So you mean you wouldn't care?"
She shook her head. "Oh, I would care, but you'd just be doing yourself harm."
"Explain." He said simply.
"Well," she began "If you kept Shiro down here, what do you think would happen? He's one of the most persistent people I know… and I know some very tenacious individuals. He would torture you to the end of your days, boy. You'd be begging someone else to take him."
"I'm the devil, my dear. I don't think I'm going to be so annoyed by a pesky street-punk." He held a paw to his chest. "Besides, when I can control him to do as I please, I don't think he'll be a problem."
"Think about this, I know him better than you do. I've spent years knowing him, and the boy enraged even the great Archaeopteryx with ease." She still smiled. "And with neither a worry nor care."
The devil chanced a sideways glance to Shiro and snorted. "Archaeopteryx has a short temper! I'm a bit more patient with my eternal damned."
"Patience can be worn thin, you know. And he has the tendency to wear it down quite quickly, if you catch my drift." She still watched him for any signs of reluctance.
"You're bluffing, my conniving mistress." He told her flat-out. "You just don't want me to kill the little rat."
She shook her head loftily. "Oh no, I'm just warning you." She told him quietly. "If you really feel you must, go ahead and send him to this hell."
He suddenly grew a smile. "You know, Kasumi, you're right… I don't want to have him lingering about." He explained in a wry intonation.
She watched him warily.
"But then again, neither would heaven, would they?" he inquired.
"Oh, I honestly don't think you could send him there." She told the hound. "He's the scourge of the universe, in case you haven't heard."
"I know." He said quietly. "But if I don't want him… and heaven certainly doesn't want him… guess where he goes…"
Her eyes flared as she realized what he was saying.
"So, shall I kill him, or will you be mine?" he held the head of the cat in one hand. "He'd make a fine ghost… he already looks like one."
She stared between them and looked away.
"Choose! One or the other, Kasumi. But think of it… if you take me, I'll let him go. But if you choose him, you'll both die eventually." He stared at her through his icy vivid red eyes.
She approached slowly, a few steps forward.
"Ah, ah, ah!" he shook his finger, putting the claw to Shiro's throat. "You come any closer and you get no choice."
She halted immediately, just barely within leaping distance of the two. An eternity seemed to pass before she stared hatefully at him. "Can I say goodbye?"
"If you wish." He took a few steps back from Shiro, who still lay calmly, seemingly unconscious.
She lowered her head and licked his cheek. "You're not going to purgatory… not if I can help it." She turned back to the devil and pounced, taking him by surprise and allowing her room to pin him to the floor. "Now." She said simply. "If you let us both go, I won't embarrass you in front of your little subjects."
"You forget," he croaked "I can't die."
"But you can feel pain." She reminded coldly, putting more weight into her step.
"So can you." He countered, pushing her away and striking her temple with his back paw. He approached Shiro, who'd begun to stir, and held a paw at his scrawny throat. "Now, my boy, you will feel more pain than you've likely ever felt before, and you'll watch me helplessly as I screw your girlfriend over there." He raised the other paw, opening a spot on his neck and holding his head down against the ground. "Say adieu, Shiro…"
"That's enough!!" a bold voice called into the distance, causing the hellhound to hesitate.
"I know that voice… so, you've come to stop me have you, goody-goody-two-shoes?" he inquired, looking behind him to note the presence of a glowing ivory hound, also wearing upon his noble head a skull crown, though his was jade in coloration and hid wondrous blue eyes full of hope and serenity. His limbs were not thick, but weren't as skeletal as the frame of the devil, and his torso was lined in a violet color, magnificent powder blue wings adorning his shoulders and midnight blue kudu horns on the back of his head. A grand bushy tail waved behind him, and his tannish muzzle wore a troubled frown as he stared down the demon.
"That I have." He answered, approaching the devil calmly and watching as the black hound slinked away. "It is not your business to continue torturing this boy or the girl, for that matter."
"And how is it not my business? They'll be down here soon enough, I can smell the evil emanating from the scrawny one." He growled in return to the other.
"Lucifer, it is not your place to interfere with them!" he called. "Fate has not decided this for them!"
"Stop calling me Lucifer! That was my father's name and you know it, Gabriel." He spat. "I am Azreal Diablo Lucifer the third, and I wear the name proudly."
"I still cannot allow you to continue with these heinous acts in my presence, Azreal." He continued.
"Ohhh… I'm a goody little angel so that means I can stop the devil!" he mocked, folding the toes of his forepaws and curling his tail inward, batting his eyes toward the ceiling. "Peh! You couldn't beat my father, Gabriel, so you most certainly can't beat me!"
"I am here on the orders of Archaeopteryx, Azreal. Not on my own time."
His eyes flared dangerously. "Prove it, Gabriel. Show me some tangible evidence."
"I cannot give you more than my word, Azreal."
"Hah!" he barked. "Therefore, I am in the right here. I can defeat you easily."
"Just because I am only an angel doesn't mean I don't have power." Gabriel told him, glaring sourly. "You underestimate me. You may have the home field advantage, but I far exceed your power with the assistance of the great Archaeopteryx."
"Hah! You've still not proved yourself, you pathetic angel." Azreal countered. He glanced toward the once lifeless form of Shiro as he slowly began to climb to his feet once again. "The boy is more tenacious than you!" he shook his head. "Look at the scrawny little pest! Still fighting a hopeless battle for an unnamed cause!"
Shiro staggered once he gained his balance, but caught himself and gingerly placed a paw upon the ground, facing the devil with his weak stance and shattering will. Though his eyes… the one thing about him that still held on… still shining with determination, even despite the fact that he knew he couldn't win.
"It's impossible how the rat just… gets back up on his feet like that!" Azreal shouted. "What the hell is he!?"
"Shiro, you may back down. This is not your fight anymore." Gabriel assured in his gentle vocals.
Shiro gave him a short, fixed glare. "It is my battle… my duty… to protect Kasumi." He murmured, taking short pauses between his words. I could've sworn at that moment that he had a pair of noble white wings right then, but his brain was so scrambled that I wasn't sure they were real. "We'll finish this, Azreal!" he shouted hoarsely, his rage and vehemence clear in the way he tensed while he stood there, claws extended and yellowed fangs borne.
"The little bastard… he's more than what he seems…" Azreal whispered, eyes wide and twitching in shock. "But how? How is he…?" he never got to finish his question, as Shiro charged, taking Azreal by surprise and knocking him over, while the devil responded with a hit to the side of his face.
The boy landed several feet away, his arms still attempting to push him up, shuddering violently and giving way within seconds. He bore nothing more now than his will.
Gabriel took to the skies, diving and attacking Azreal while the hellhound had been watching Shiro and bringing the devil to the ground. He held Azreal by the throat with one of his paws, glaring down at him. "Let them go, Azreal."
"What authority do you think you have!?" the black hound countered.
"I have the authority to decide this, Azreal. Let them go."
The scrawny hellhound looked around carefully. "On one condition."
"I'm not making deals with you, Azreal!" Gabriel pressed only harder upon the throat of the demon. "Let them go!"
"What can you do to me that would make me want to, Gabriel? You can't kill me, nor can you take away my title as the devil, and you most certainly can't damn me to an eternity of torture."
"I am the messenger of Archaeopteryx. I can't do these things on my own… but he can." The white wolf reminded him.
"……" words seemed to escape Azreal as he looked around his domain. "Take them, then." He spat. "I don't care."
"Good choice, Azreal." The ivory hound stepped away, approaching Shiro as he stared forward with his mismatched eyes. "You're free. Come along, I'll get Kasumi."
Shiro stood, limping past Gabriel, and blocked his path. "I'll get her." He muttered warningly, looking back to where she was and trudging ever forth.
"Yes, Shiro." He answered quietly, following the shamble of the small Mewtwo in a close pattern of step at a considerable distance. He knew not to approach the boy when he was in such a distraught state, but he was unsure about whether he really knew his strengths or not.
Shiro kept on, however, and approached Kasumi, leaning in and scooping her onto his back painfully, though he hid his true anguish behind a glowering façade. He hobbled in the other direction from whence he came, and they reached the entrance to the hells from which they fell beforehand. He looked up to the fissure in the earth and Gabriel stood alongside him.
"You'll find that you have wings, Shiro, but they are only temporary. They will disappear once you reach the realm of Earth, but will always remain when you are in the heavens or the hells." He explained. "You are more than what you seem… never let anyone convince you otherwise."
Shiro stared at him with latent eyelids, nodding with a sharp tip of his maw and spreading the wingspan that he'd been told he had.
"When you reach the angelic stage, you'll be able to keep these wings." Gabriel said, spreading his own; of a soft blue hue. "Your heart still contains the blackness that you once kept. You must repent if you wish to become yourself again. Until then, you are lost."
Shiro swept downward with the divine wingspan, rising into the crevasse that had opened in the earth as Gabriel tailed him. He landed upon the ground and the ivory feathers dissolved into nothing. He watched as the white wolf continued to ascend into the heavens, but stopped to hover above him.
"I'll see you again, Shiro. When I don't know, but someday." The wolf smiled and turned away, disappearing into nothingness after reaching a certain point in altitude.
Shiro was left with the true pain of his injuries, setting off back toward my house with Kasumi still upon his lacerated back. Through the light snow that'd begun to fall and the chill air about him he kept pushing on, going numbly forth into my front yard. He turned the knob to the front of the house and stumbled in, falling forth and splaying the both of them onto the floor. The next I saw was blackness.
Within a few hours, Shiro awoke in a bed in the hospital wing of the house, Lion sitting nearby staring at the floor with his soft, easy violet eyes. He glanced over as the boy sat up and smiled troubledly, getting to his feet and approaching Shiro.
"Hey, kiddo. How're you doing?" he asked, tilting his head and still smiling.
"My head hurts…" he answered, holding it in one hand.
"Well, all in all, it should, boy. It looks like you took some awful blows to the head." He explained, shrugging. "What happened, anyway?"
"You'd never believe me if I told you." Shiro explained, a bit of slur to his voice. He suddenly snapped to attention. "Where's Kasumi?"
Lion pointed to a bed nearby, where she lay soundly as Houndour and Growlithe played around the floor of the room and under the beds. Occasionally, a Meowth would show up, dashing about and darting under the covers. "She's fine, just about the same injuries as you, but less intense."
"Hmm." He muttered, still quietly watching Kasumi.
"You dig her." Lion input from the background.
Shiro turned scarlet. "What?"
"Come on, it's so obvious! You're head-over-heels for the girl!" he offered, patting Shiro on the back.
"Don't touch me." The youth snapped, cringing. "Especially not there."
"Yeah, it was pretty torn when you came in. I don't think those pathetic tournament-mongers could've managed to do this to the great Shiro Sasaki." Lion snorted.
He stared forward for a moment. "Wait, how did you know that was my last name?"
"It's mine, too." He told Shiro, smirking. "A few years before you… died again, I met you after you escaped from the lab… remember?"
"That was you… wasn't it? I thought I recognized your face, it's hard to mistake you for anyone else." Shiro shook his head. "Hah. So you did name me."
"Aye, Shiro. I found you, raised you, and named you after my best friend… the one that raised me." He glanced away, sighing lightly.
"Why so disappointed?" Shiro inquired, looking back.
"He died… when I was twelve." He explained.
"I see."
Lion nodded. "Well, it's not a big deal… not anymore anyway. I'm not one of those people who tend to dwell in the past like that. If I did, I wouldn't be as cheerful as I am, 'cause I had a pretty bad past. A rough childhood."
"Are you sure you had it as bad as I did?" Shiro inquired wryly. "I died, remember?"
"I'm sure." He told the boy, patting him on the head and causing him to flinch. He pulled his hand away as it was snapped at by the youth. "But I had fun for the most part. I'm not complaining."
"I wish I could say the same."
Lion's smile faded slightly. "Things'll get better, Shiro-boy. I know they will."
"You go on thinking that." He murmured, laying his head back down as the other exited. "Just keep thinking like that… you'll see. My life's going in a downward spiral, and it always has."
Up until now, I never believed in angels or anything of the sort. I knew there was some sort of divine being out there, but I worshipped none of them because I didn't care. The devil has met me once before, and he knows more than he ever should, but I've escaped him once again… by the doing of an angel… and Archaeopteryx. The dragon that'd added to my woe and misery because I pissed him off… he came back and saved me, though I'm sure only because of Kasumi. She was a loyal to him, so I wouldn't be surprised if he wanted me to die down there.
Whatever the case, I've a new understanding of the forces of heaven and hell… at least… the ones of the Imnish realm. The Imn, not human, not creature, but alien… that must be what those insane beings that share the heads of myself and the others are…
These thoughts brought him to sleep, as the day turned to night and passed us by.
End Chapter #2