The bloody red glare faded into nothingness. Mist's perennial chilling and churning began to recede. They began to mourn, and scowl themselves into tortured, greedy faces, gasping in hate. Periwinkle darkness blanketed upon bodies and bodies of trees, self-conscious fingers intervening the forest, searching and searching the black shrubs, deathly trees, flimsy pebbles, touching them, feeling them. Sleuthing and searching endlessly in a never-ending hunt, searching – but never finding. Leaves rustled, shaking their heads disappointingly as few fell to the ground, plummeting softly to their cold-ground deaths. Tense pain paralyzed the air, shifting the clouds eerily above, the unseen puffs of white.
Teresa's eyes began to sore. Too much blood was beginning to fill her eyelids; it was as if her eyes were to become cracked with red. Slowly, she released the pressure on her eyes, and slowly – but surely, they began to open, stretching the walls in order to reveal tiny, miniscule violet slits of curiosity, a dreadful, deathly curiosity that was much too afraid of what it might find. Lower levels of disappointment began to show on the apparition's invisible, concealed face. Heavy breathing began to replace the sounds of the chewing, munching mist. Icy haze froze; frosty fogs chilled. The walls of her eyelids were pulled farther and farther apart, two lives never allowed to cross each other again – pulled away by hate and jealousy, pulled away by curiosity. Fully opened eyes stared in a violet, innocent gaze at the scene laid before them, shuddering in their stony placement, wanting to break free of the pale, circular hold. Teresa's body froze along with the mist, along with the scene – and along with time.
"D-Daniel…" she muttered through still gasping, trilling teeth. Her breath was hot yet cold. Her teeth chiseled themselves in an extreme frost from fear and surprise. Her voice was bare to come out, choked as it was released from her vocal chords, throttled to a shake. Forcing the shaking eyes to wander to her right, she found Daniel still stuck inside the trap, surrounded by that ominous green light, those spirit strings that stabbed into his body, his veins, his arteries! His head was bowed and bored, his arms hanging uncomfortably like a crucifying moment. Then, slowly, the image of the redhead Minor began to fade, slowly shivering into thin air. The strings detached, one of them cut and limp on the floor. The green glow powered down, a new meaning to blackout until nothing in that space remained – no traces whatsoever of anything strange happening in that spot. All was gone.
"I see…" a croaky, ghastly voice spoke through cold, masked lips. Last bits and traces of the green glow and redhead replica shivered away into camouflage wisps. "So you were somehow able to cut the soul strings with your own energy."
Heavy breathing continued. From an uninformative point of view, drops of blood showered down to the ground in slow, wasteful drops. Red, tiny puddles caked the ground and was slowly being absorbed, the circle of life. Points of view rose, and found the needled shaft of the chains, the weakening, clothed knees of a teenager. They trembled as they tried to fall, searing pain commanding otherwise. Then, finally seeing the whole thing, one could see Daniel, three dangers' points struck right into his stomach, caking the underside of his clothes with red, staining them with tainted hurt. They were still bound by their tightened chains, strong as steel as they were. They were not deep enough however, to disallow breathing. In fact, because of them, Daniel was breathing heavily. His mouth was stretched open in gasps of despair. Glasses slid down the slope of his nose slowly like a snail. Heavy tired marks blotched his cheeks, cold perspiration leaking out like a recently washed orange. Hands were at his knee, as weak and trembling as whom it supported, trying to keep the legs from falling to their doom, yet, still, ironically and controversially, helping them instead.
More drops of blood fell like rain, slowly but surely, the beginning of a storm – the beginning of the end. His shoulders were slouched as he made an effort to speak. "Kenneth…" he muttered his brother's name under his weak, unstable breath, turning back to see his brother's petrified face. He was still stuck in that fearful trance of the situation. More pain suddenly shot through him and blistered to his limbs. Daniel cried out, wincing horridly as he couldn't help but fall to his knees, bringing the three bloodied, chained daggers with him. He coughed out from the throbbing stings that stabbed every single aspect of his body. He was brought to his knees, his arms helplessly supporting him, facing the ground as he bowed to the shafted chains, feeling their cool, needled metal pricking against the skin of his forehead. He breathed in air of rust and exhaled it back out, hurting his lungs.
"Daniel…" Teresa muttered in disbelief. She couldn't believe what her eyes perceived.
The opponent scowled as he hatefully and gladly drew back the daggers, reeling them back into his sleeves with a horrid clatter. The daggers forced pulled themselves out of Daniel's stomach, giving him more searing, aching pain shooting through him like a mass shower of cannonballs inside him. Blood squirt out as the two disconnected, the three daggers bringing back their blood-stained tips into the invisible, clothed sleeves. Daniel coughed out, gagging from the immense pain. "Fine," the ghost's booming voice shattered the air, filling Daniel's paranoia ears with hell and fear, fear of what was to happen next, fear of the next step. "I'll kill you first if you insist."
Watching in a helpless retching, Teresa brought her own body to her knees and hands and heaved her stomach onto the ground, a sickly smell caking her hair as it dragged to her face. There was no time to pull it back. Her stomach felt weak and full of ache as it threw itself out of her throat, as if forcing it, pushing itself outward. Afterwards, Teresa brought herself away from the disgusting, gross puddle, taking deep, calming breaths, gagging once every now and then as she fought of wave after wave of nausea. My… my relations with other people… Teresa thought in her mind as she realized that she was the one behind all this. Eric-san, she imagined his brown eyes and strong textures. Daniel-kun, she pictured his narrow, emerald eyes beneath those glistening glasses his red hair falling over his face with that forehead full of ideas underneath. Kenneth-kun, she thought of his overly widened smile, that happiness that filled him every moment. Everyone, she, again, thought of everyone involved in the Minors-White Cloak situation. It surprised her how many there were. Jeremy-san… she thought of his innocent, ten year old smile, those broad, helpless eyes closing in joy, that white streaked hair falling to his sides handsomely, which would help him in later years of the future.
That's right, Teresa told herself as she slowly and weakly brought herself back to her trembling knees, the two caps shaking and cuddling each other for bare warmth. I must do something, she demanded of herself, trying to straighten out her back. Full of effort, she made slow and steady progress to repel her attracted knees legs from each other, trying to stop the magnetic shaking. Eric, she thought of his face once more, his crossed, only-want-to-help arms. On cue, pain shot through her from the memories and nausea, uncomfortable feelings washing over her like sanitizer did to a table, overdosed and overdone. The opponent had not noticed her actions yet, her growing will.
"Time for more," the booming voice that came from all directions spoke in a godly voice. Presence approaching, a large punch impact knocked away Daniel's glasses and shattered them, bringing them to the floor limply as he had the air beat out of him. Teresa… he thought as he collapsed to his side. Pain shot through the left side of his face, feeling as if he had been cut and grated against a million times over. He breathed heavily as he slowly and unsurely brought himself to his shins, as if sitting respectively. Teresa breathed heavily as well, trying to regain her confidence and will to live. "Die!" the presence floating away and firing another shot of a rattling chain. A new dagger shot out, clean and cut, shining with an eerie, blue shine. The tip of it twinkled in a bright bloodthirsty craving.
"Enough!" Teresa cried out, her back still lying against the gate, her eyes squinting in intolerance as her mouth screamed out that one, meaningful word, the sound echoing through the trees as if to make sure everyone in the nature's audience heard.
PoVS
Sounds of impact filled the air like an impatient lunch bell rung by a scowling old lady on a farm. Derek and Zack fought together for training, hand-to-hand combat. It was obvious that the black-haired boy was winning. Zack kept messing up and pretending nothing wrong had happened. The sun lingered in the faraway sky, beginning to set, yet not yet blistering its wave of sunset orange, an ending bright sky. We've trained for the last hour, Derek realized as he blocked punch after wasteful punch from the brown-haired, white-clothed boy. Where do we go from here? he asked himself, somehow thinking that he himself had the answer somewhere inside him.
The black-haired boy blocked a punch from the Wind-Minor and kicked him in the chest, sending him toppling over onto the ground, on his back. "Damn it!" Zack cried out in an unwanted and intolerant loss, a hated feeling of failure washing him like a face towel in the early morning to bring out his blue eyes.
Derek stood confidently and surely, looking down on the blue-eyed boy and casting his blackish, superior shadow over him. "You show your true emotions too much, Zack." Derek scorned seriously. His eyes were narrow and mean. Zack stared up absent-mindedly, not making a move to get up for who knows why. "This way, an enemy is able to find your dullest traits and observe, as well as see the sharpest. Don't give answers away when you're handing a test," Derek made a metaphor. "That's the definition of true power."
Zack sneered meanly and irrespectively. "All you do is beat me down and then lecture me on how I'm not what I 'should' be!" Zack complained for a good purpose this time. The blue eyed boy pouted sadly as he stared up at the shadow of Derek.
Derek sighed. "Let me help you up," he told Zack, somewhat changing the subject. It wasn't that he didn't like Zack. Sure, sometimes he hated the way he acted, but Derek's parents always told him those exact words when he wanted to make friends with other people. A tanned hand offered paler ones up. The paler ones accepted, giving the tanned ones a challenge to pick up, however, they pulled through with the job. Just as Zack was on his feet again, Derek thrust a palm to his chest and sent him flying with wisps of shadow energy. His back slammed against the body of a tree and erupted blossoming buds downward as the head shook. Pain shot through from the Wind Minor's back as he cried out.
"Don't trust other people so easily, either," Derek scorned. Zack pouted and sneered once more, as if to repeat what he had said earlier. Derek sighed, knowing his mistake. Walking over with care and meticulousness, he cast his shadow once more over Zack, darkening his face with an eerie shade.
Derek stared down, a mean, perspiring glare looking down on him. His dark eyes pierced through his innocent, blue ones. It was like the demon versus the angel. The black-haired seventeen year-old sighed, his eyes unstringing themselves loose from their narrowed points, dulling out as their respective mouth gave a sigh of tiresome tediousness. Derek had realized finally to stop. He had gone too far. "Sorry," Derek muttered in respect for once, changing his tone completely. This time, for real, he brought down his hand, offering a true, sincere help. Zack looked up at it, wondering if he should take it or not. He winced at the thought of the pain he could and might deal with again. "Let me help you up for real this time," Derek offered with the sincerest tone. It was obvious in his voice, and his dark, unstrung eyes.
Zack smiled, and happily, he let the tanned fingers take his less toned ones, the offering ones helping him up for real. Zack was finally brought to his feet, and somehow, he put his shield up, awaiting the big hit. However, there was no big hit. Derek gave a weak smile, as if he had forgotten how to over the many years of rarely doing so. His eyes wandered away from eye contact in embarrassment. Then, leaving Zack without a word, he left, beginning to pace back to the more sunlit area, his Geta slippers crunching the grass, having their late afternoon snack. Zack blinked. Once, twice. He really did help me this time, Zack realized with an inner smile. He decided not to mention it, knowing that Derek would deny if he ever spoke the action through his lips.
PoVS
The dagger soared through the air, slicing the wind eagerly as Daniel made no attempt to move. He would not have a plan this time. No, he did not have any signs of escape now. Now, he would have to take the hit, and now, he would have to die for the purpose of his brother. However, what were to happen if his brother died as well, just that his brother had stalled it? Daniel watched the glimmering blade come nearer and nearer, his breaths heavy and heavy, weighing more and more as time passed on. Emerald, narrowed eyes watched through the mist meanly as he somehow wished it away, wishes always failing. Then, at the last second, Daniel closed his eyes, and waited for the pain to take over him.
A sickening crack of bone and metal filled the air. New blood dripped to the floor in slow rain. "Oh?" the opponent muttered under his breath, interest piqued. It seemed to have increased in volume, like a mechanical voice speaking for the enemy that made all the mute attacks. Or maybe… even the daggered chains were sound effects as well! No one could know for sure in this thickening, frozen mist of confusion and puzzlement.
This time, it was Daniel who slowly opened his eyes. It was Daniel, who reluctantly pushed away the walls of his emerald prowess, a curiosity afraid of what it might discover lying inside them, embedded like a jewel on clothes. This time, he was the one who gave a short gasp, and this time, it was he who widened his stare, his eyes trembling in their rounded cage, shuddering in a wanted escape. "So, you've finally stopped shaking," the voice muttered again, louder this time.
A new voice's heavy breathing sounded through the air. Hazy mist gave tortured faces once again, giving wide screams of silence through the thickened periwinkle forest. Following the trail of metal, shimmering chains, the dagger struck through a hand of someone else's, crooked fingers wanting to grasp the dagger, wanting to grasp the wound and wash it away, heal it instantly, even though they did not hold such prowess in their arsenal. However, they held something so much more; they grasped something - something of much, much more importance. And soon – this something would be revealed soon enough. Heavy breathing, chest heaving with no vomit this time, Teresa's face was shaded over, her legs' trembling finally put to a stop. She stood confidently now, her hair strung behind her head, fixed as she ran for her teammate's defense. Her eyes were shaded over, her head somewhat bowed down in a solemn gaze that was just too evil to be seen, forcefully hidden away. Teresa… Daniel thought, staring up at the female's back. Her purple cloth's bagginess cast a huge blob of a shadow over him. Why? He asked simplemindedly in his thoughts, his eyes still without his glasses, appearing rather strange to anyone who might enter at the moment, which was very unlikely. Wide, broadened eyes cast at clung to her back and shoulders. Amazing, he thought. He didn't know why.
"You've stopped shaking," the voice noted once again, repeating itself. "How come?" it asked this time, presence still not revealed yet.
Teresa took a few more heavy breaths, her eyes still hidden in a shadow from her forehead to her nose, her mouth the only aspect of her face revealed, wide open in a thousand gasps of air. Her hand was still in front of her lower face, still having the chained dagger struck through it, the wound leaking out red liquid slowly in a tiny, microscopic river. "Because…" she began in heavy gasps. "I finally realized," she took more deep breaths between words. "…what you said earlier…was wrong." Shocked faces flashed through the mist, frozen in utter surprise, the real dealt astonishing, and a bolt from the blue. "Relationships with others aren't useless! They don't always lead to pain," she said, her voice rising and falling. "It is how you take care of your bonds that really matters. That's why…"
Everyone waited for her final words as she took in more deep, tiresome breaths. "That's why I'll stop you from killing the new bonds that I have. That's why, I'll put my life on the line to kill you!" Teresa screamed out in a fury, picking her head up as everyone was amazed, even more astonished than before. Her head rose as the curtain of shadow over most of her face was pulled away, showing her mean, confident glare, her lips still trembling in heavy panting. And inside her eyes, the violet had been washed away. The purple sadness had become a sickening yet powerful, pale white, and inside these two, authoritative white orbs, laid two thick, blackish pentacles of prowess embedded in her new, re-released eyes. Inside her eyes, the full form of the ghost began to form, fading into a steady presence and silhouette, slowly filling in the colors and matching them with the scenery outside. She could now perfectly see the enemy, threatening him with her eyes.
"Is that so?" the ghost asked in a croaky, raspy voice as if he were the grim reaper. "In that case, I'll prove you wrong over and over again!" the apparition spoke with a crescent, unworn smile clear to Teresa's new eyes. With a lean forward, the apparition disappeared into an agile blur.
"I won't let you!" Teresa shot back as she pulled the dagger out of her hand, wincing away the pain, knowing that there was no time to deal with such a thing now, zooming herself into her own speedy blur.
Without eyeglasses, Daniel gulped and began to search the ground for his glasses. He was on all fours, and could barely see anything except the blurs of brown and green of the forest and ground, shaved blue of the snowy white mist. I have to get these glasses – I have to! I'm… I'm too…! He couldn't bear to finish that thought. He had promised Shintenmaru that he would never, never have those feelings again.
Sounds of kicks and punches burst through the air as the two confident sides fought against each other with meaningful attacks. Trailing fingers swam across the dirty ground, painting their whorls of approval all over the dusty surface as they finally came across cracked glasses. Yes! Daniel thought as he quickly brought his second hand to the first one, taking his spectacles and placing them over his eyes once again. The crack of one side made a huge disturbance in sight. Daniel gulped nervously once more, filled with fear and a hellish fright. He watched the two blurs oppose each other with amazing, twisting and turning speed.
Teresa and the opponent fought at it, hitting each other, blocking each other so they nullified each hit. "I'm not done!" Teresa shouted in pulsing determination as she gave a strong kick to the spirit's torso, now able to touch the apparition's body with her activated level of eyes. Ground teeth shaved each other as she slid from the push of the attack on her body, her feet scraping the floor as she skated backward, dragging dust with her and her long, flapping sleeves. Her hair flung upward as the skimming stopped. The enemy was still in midair, as if waiting for the other round of attacks.
Soon falling back down, Teresa rushed over to the opponent, and took force field energy into her left hand, making it into some kind of rounded blade protruding from her fist. Then, she reeled the new axe blade backwards, and while the enemy was still in midair, cut straight through him, slicing across his shoulder to his abdominals in a splicing, diagonal scarring. Blood spilled everywhere, enough for a massacre, enough for the massacre that she had to watch the aftermath of. The opponent gave a sickening, weak cry as he fell to the floor, and as blood seemed to float to Teresa's confident, not unfinished expression. There was more she had to do. Oh, so much more that she had in mind, you couldn't believe it.