Chapter 4

Fabula, the guide of wonderland, was very worried. As she looked into her magical pearl, all she could see was the faces of suffering.

The makenshi was suffering. And the magun was suffering. Neither knew why.

However, Fabula was a guide. She could not interfere with the lives of others.

But perhaps… she could guide them towards the end of their pain…

He felt so weak these days. Always so weak. He'd lost his appetite and eaten less and less until he had stopped eating entirely. That, of course, only weakened him further. His chest ached more often now, and at times it felt like he couldn't breathe. Makenshi felt like he was dying.

Every now and then he would catch one of the deathlords smirking at him, and it unnerved him. Fungus was dead and Herba wasn't much of a problem. Pist had started hacking on Kumo constantly when he had realized that the swordsman was weakening, even though the fish-man wasn't sure of what was causing it (but he wanted to find out. Oh, he wanted to find out). Kumo fought hard not to loose control and split the fish in two with his sword.

What Kumo was most worried about was the way Oscha and the count would look at him. There was something in those looks that made the white swordsman uneasy. He needed to get away. So he did. Shiroi Kumo disappeared from the count's vessel, and walked aimlessly around wonderland.

Not far, Kuroki Kaze was wandering around, looking for clues of his enemy's whereabouts. He couldn't help the feeling of anxiety gripping him, as if something was really, terribly wrong. It was a feeling like half of his soul was slowly dying from an unknown pain, and yet, Kaze himself didn't really feel anything.

Suddenly the black wind noticed a pale figure moving towards him. Even without the battle mist Kaze immediately recognized Makenshi. In the blink of an eye he had the red secondary gun ready.

Shiroi Kumo stopped about five meters away from his rival. He was a bit surprised to meet Kaze so suddenly. So… randomly… but the surprise was quickly overtaken by fatigue and pain.

"Is this the day you kill me, Kuroki Kaze," Makenshi asked in a tired voice. "Or will it just be like all the other unfinished battles…?"

Kaze didn't lower his secondary gun, but neither did he shoot. Shiroi Kumo had made no move to release his sword, and that bewildered him.

'What's wrong with him?' the black wind wondered as Shiroi Kumo continued to speak with sad eyes.

"I'm just so… tired." After saying this, the swordsman's eyes slid closed and he fell forward to the ground. He didn't move after that.

This was the perfect opportunity for Kaze to end his rival's life. But… he couldn't. He couldn't kill Makenshi. Not now. It felt… wrong. So Kaze let his arm go limp and just stared at the body lying in front of him. Slowly, he walked over to it and knelt down. He carefully lifted Kumo's face from the ground and frowned. The white cloud was sickly pale, and his skin felt feverish.

Gradually Kaze lifted the younger man's upper body with his hand so that his left arm was securely around Kumo's back and the white-haired head was resting on his shoulder. When that was done, Kaze slid his magun under Kumo's legs and lifted the body off the ground before pausing.

What exactly was he doing? Helping his enemy?

The black clad man was about to place his rival back onto the ground and leave when he noticed something. Moving the fingers of his left hand Kaze's frown deepened.

That felt like… Yes. Kaze was sure about it. What he felt was Shiroi Kumo's ribs, as if the swordsman hadn't eaten in days.

With a sigh, the black wind gave up the fight and carried Makenshi over to a small spring he had seen earlier.

After setting his light burden down next to the water, Kaze hesitated a moment before taking out a piece of cloth from a hidden pocket. He dipped the cloth into the stream and placed it on Shiroi Kumo's forehead, and waited.

For a small moment the white swordsman looked so very young, and innocent. Kaze almost, almost felt tempted to reach out and move the soft strands of hair out of Kumo's face.

With a small, almost pitiful moan, Shiroi Kumo started to wake up. The green eyes opened and blinked at the sky before finally settling to gaze at his helper in confusion.

"Kuroki… Kaze..?" Kumo asked, his voice and eyes betraying his thoughts: 'Why..? I don't understand…'

Without a word Kaze stood up and walked away, leaving Kumo alone by the spring.

'You are mine to kill, Shiroi Kumo,' Kaze thought silently to himself. 'No other death will do.'

But the beautiful green eyes looking at him in confusion would not leave his mind. Why did he feel so weird about leaving his rival like that? And why was he suddenly so strongly reminded of the dream he had had a few nights ago?

Kumo stared at Kaze's back moving further and further away. Why hadn't Kaze just ended it all? The white swordsman sat up with much effort. Something damp fell onto his lap as he did so. Looking down, Kumo noticed the dark colored cloth Kaze had placed on his forehead.

Almost as if in a dream, Kumo lifted a shaking hand and picked up the cloth.

The white cloud brought the cloth up to his face and inhaled, eyes closed. It smelled wet, but it also smelled like Kaze.

Shiroi Kumo couldn't stop his body from trembling, and to his ultimate horror, something wet found its way down his cheek. He quickly whipped away the tear, but it was followed by another and then another until it seemed like they would never stop. Shaking, Kumo curled up with his knees against his chest.

He was a Mysterian warrior. He shouldn't cry. Mysterians didn't cry it wasn't like them to do so. But young Shiroi Kumo couldn't stop the tears from flowing. He curled his arms around his legs and hid his face against his knees. Five words escaped him in a broken whisper, muffled by his legs:

"Kamui-sama… I'm going to die…!"

End.

Kamui, the Japanese God of the sky. I'm flattered that people see this work as worthy to read...