Hot sunlight burned, burned the ground to the sizzle – a lovely, jubilant way to burn. Lingering clouds with blistering with heat, ready to explode in the sky with their chockfull of pout cheeks, ready to hurl their stomachs any moment. Their sweat even dried before it reached the ground. The stench of starchy air filled the air to the brim with its thick, unavoidable scent. The Monday sun howled, giving birth to darkness while at the same time, eliminating it. Tsukansu continued through the branching limbs of the trees that clawed at him, protesting his path of life. They scratched him, scraped against him, batted him. He did not give up. He continued through the sea of cool shade, unacknowledged grass blades waving howdy-do fingers. Green bodies whispered to each other, spies of the dryad eavesdropping.
The gossip of the wind was caught in Tsukansu's ears. The Water Minor continued to train on that tired tree, slicing it, attacking it, blasting it, as if Walter hated it, hated it with all his guts. What had the poor tree done so wrong, being our provider of oxygen? Could Hanabikai be right? Tsukansu thought as he approached tensely, shortly, fatherly, brotherly. Could history really be-?
Tsukansu brought an eager hand full of crooked, selfless fingers of glad permanence to his face. He examined them, observing them, as if wanting, asking, pleading and begging for something more, something deeper and more meaningful. He found no answers from the lips of his nails. Wisps of silver glowed around them, danced, prayed, lived on them, showing themselves like chameleons giving up their childish game of hide and seek. Then, soon, the coin-color whispers faded into nothing again. No, Tsukansu answered his own question, demanding his answer right, declaring it. Don't be ridiculous, he told himself scornfully. Your best friend is much too paranoid, that's all.
PoVS
Hanabikai sighed. He sat uneasily in the wooden chair of the empty, faded room. Reality was bent, gravity was overruled. Corners of hateful darkness sucked up all the shadows in the room, clogging their gluttonous mouths, ending their obesity and beginning their death. Orange walls were tainted with shadowy grudges, spots of hate. Wooden furniture was nothing but a chair, a table, and empty nothingness, nothing special. Nothing at all. The ebony whorls caged the Fire Council, egging him into an oval orb of light, of visibility, available to him and him only, only favoring him. Why was he so special, of all people, that he deserved even a private orb of light in an eternal, broad and proud darkness? It made no sense.
Tsukansu… he thought, fidgeting in his seat as if he were too big for it, as if needles pricked against him from the chair, digging into him with searing, bulleting pain. I wonder, are you really telling Walter? He thought of their last conversation. Or are you starting up your lies of the past again? Hanabikai scoffed at the idea, making a joke of the long-lost past that shall forever remain lost. Now, having been through it all, he laughed at it. Purred at it, praised at it, anything but hate it. How ironic seemed this. Hurry up, okay? He pleaded in silence to his closest friend, having a change of interior tone. Today's the first day back, Hanabikai noted.
The darkness churned. It stirred like a wild pot full of his thoughts, wooden ladles of invisibility dropping into the big, mixing, swirling pot of solution to pull out thoughts every now and then:
That's right, I have to get Eric-san, prepared, the Fire Council made a not of himself. Especially for Hibiyomi, the thought filled with dread. That guy, back then…
It was the day before the Minors would return. Everyone was tense, everyone's muscles tightened like so, Boy Scout rope abused, overused. Everyone except Hibiyomi. Darkness swept everywhere, seemingly the dominant element in this whole place, too important, not letting everyone forget of the shadows, forget of hell, forget about Hibiyomi, tension adding by the seconds, minutes, coming in pairs at the front door, letting themselves in, more and more unwanted as the clock eagerly ticked by. Anxious, tick-tock hands of fate began to turn, much too slowly for its own good, perspiring faces watching them with fear, watching them with hesitation with once-in-a-while looks to the door, then back to the slow, tortoise fingers of ebony time. Numbers inscribed on the white, mechanical circle sealed destiny, fate, life itself inside it. Memories lost were churned and shredded by the metallic, should-be-rusted gears.
"Hibiyomi," Hanabikai let himself in the room. Darkness seemed more dominant in the room. It shot him in the heart with an absent bullet of fear. Careful steps and measures were taken as he walked in, slowly closing the door behind him, as if ensuring his own future, his fortune. The room seemed limitless, endless with its eternal shadows, its ignorant bliss of darkened sky and ground, dim walls of fury lost and lost in a sea of space, sea of invisible, clear, translucent space. The bare silhouette of the Shadow Council was seen right in the middle of the room, as if expecting the Fire Council. Hanabikai gulped, eager to get this over with, yet dreading himself with strings of backwards hate and grudge, twisting his stomachs in a tornado hurricane of nausea and fear. Sweat poured from the side of his face, all the while hoping that Hibiyomi did not spot his nervousness. "The Minors come back tomorrow," Hanabikai said out of nervousness, feeling like he had to say something. Making the fact more obvious didn't help.
Hibiyomi turned his head, giving a cold, cross stare at his teammate. The Fire Council froze and felt nothing. The rushing of blood stopped. The hammering of his heart against the greedy ribbed fingers of its cage seemed to numb, numb away the pain and suffering. Expressions became drained, blank, unable to form. What was this un- coherency that seemed to fill the room so eagerly, so desperately, so thickly? Nothing seemed balanced. The room tilted over, tipping on its side, shunned screeches echoed at empty, deaf darkness. Wandering eyes of anxiety danced about in their limited, closed area. Hibiyomi seemed to wait, seemed to know that the rush of panic was taking over his teammate's body, just being patient until it got so high to the point where he had to speak. "Yes," Hibiyomi said, actually adding to his cooperative's nervousness.
Hanabikai took a long time to start, unable to find his voice, a soft murmur of life spat out from his swollen, sweaty lips, starting his poorly scaled sentences. "You've heard about the Higher Powers, right?" Hibiyomi nodded, intolerant. "In exchange for custody of the Minors, we have to give up most of our reality-bending abilities, such as portals?" Once more, Hibiyomi nodded. "Well…" Hanabikai couldn't seem to finish. "One of us has to go pay them a visit and make it official."
"So?" Hibiyomi asked straightforwardly. He seemed to want to go straight to the point; no beating around the bush. He made the Fire Council extremely nervous and panicky; however, despite his emotions, Hanabikai calmed desperately, and went on.
"So, since you seem to be the most patient out of all of us, we were thinking maybe you should go," Fire Council said. Why did those words about the Shadow Council seem so untrue now? Why did the Council have to start worrying about every single little thing of return and Hibiyomi? Why could this shadow-masked man just let go?
Hibiyomi turned his head, peering off to the deep space at his side. He seemed to search in it, search for a secret, sleuth into an empty concealment of hate and anger, detestation filling the gates of hell, flights of fury. His spirit felt like it had left his body, sinking slowly away from him, a new astral, comfortable form. Then, like emptiness getting closer and closer, the spirit seemed to be consumed by the greedy fingers of black conceit. Hanabikai was once again kept waiting. "No," Hibiyomi denied finally.
"But, Hibiyomi –" Hanabikai said before he was cut off weakly.
"I said no!" Hibiyomi crossed his eyes. He growled, scowled. "I want to be here when the Minors come back."
"Now, Hibiyomi!" Hanabikai finally found his inner confidence, his innovation and instinct deep inside him hiding behind his panic. His eyes immediately narrowed, showing drained fear and overflowing confidence. "You know very well why the rest of the Council thinks you shouldn't! You're going to go to the Higher Power!"
Threat filled the air, replaced tension. There was a long, dim silence. Echoes of the night seemed to be trapped in the room, whispering for escape, Morse codes of voice, soft, white murmurs of innocence. "Fine," Hibiyomi finally accepted with reluctance. His eyes narrowed, a grudging hate thieved from the dark, unseen corners of the mirage-like room. Hanabikai nodded, grateful. Harmony fell back into place, one peaceful melody in the sound of dark silence, in the presence of swirling darkness, among the shadowy seas of the unforgivable, unthinkable, and untouchable. "But, I will come back," Hibiyomi said, turning around as Hanabikai headed for the door. Now they were facing away from each other, just the right amount of distance away. "You can't protect the Minors, then, now can you?"
Hanabikai gulped. Hibiyomi's presence lifted from the room, fading into the shadows, sinking into the ground. Now, the Fire Council was left alone. Damn him…! Hanabikai thought through ground teeth. Darkness churned, shaking, trembling, as if recording the moment it had just heard, seen, experienced. Another record of time.
Returning himself back to the darker, dimmer, wider room of the present, Hanabikai thought insightfully, a loose fist supporting his head, elbow on the flat surface of the cool table. I have a feeling Eric-san's going to be the first one to jump in when Hanabikai gets back. I hope Derek-san is prepared, too.
Getting back to his feet, Hanabikai sighed, stretching his limbs. He felt the comfort sink into his sockets and replace the tightened muscles of his body. He felt freer, more refreshed, and more able to do something as the strains left him with nothing but easiness. Then, with a new thought and mind, the worrisome Fire Council opened the door wide, half seen with its orange peels, and walked out, closing the door behind him tightly. Soon, the cool touch of the golden, wealthy doorknob left the underside of his hand. Into the darkness he swam.
PoVS
Tsukansu continued past the grass and green, a parade of live energy around him, surrounding him, caressing him with their loving, affectionate touches and breezes. How refreshing this was to a lazy person. Tsukansu took these things into disregard as he approached Walter. He didn't really seem to notice him anymore. Should I be angry? Tsukansu thought to himself. He sure is working hard. The Water Council sighed as he watched the shadowy silhouette of Walter follow and mimic his every movement. Every punch to the tree, every kick that rustled tambourine leaves. Everything, that it almost seemed scary, freaky, strange.
Something suddenly clinked to the floor at Walter's feet. Punches stopped. Kicks paused. Eyes wandered to the ground, slowly, to catch a thrown water canister, wrapped in a brown cover, the circular pie of water full of the stuff. Then, slowly, his teenage eyes wandered upward to find Tsukansu, who seemed to finally stop moving. The council stared back at him.
"Shouldn't you take a rest from training so hard?" the council asked, giving a friendly smirk. Walter made no signs of bonding.
"Even so, do you really think I'd need that?" he referred to the water canister as he resumed his hateful punches and kicks to the tree. His impacting fingers seemed to become blistered and hard, hot with energy, sizzling with pain. The same went for his forelegs. His eyes wandered away, uninterested.
"I see," Tsukansu replied. "So it seems that you find no use for outer sources of water." Nothing but punching replies answered. Tsukansu brought himself forward, and bent over to pick up the water canister by its strap, bringing it around his arm. "Let me ask you a question," he piqued. Still, punching answered him. Tsukansu took this as a yes. "Walter-san," he called to him. No answer still. Tsukansu disregarded. "When you teamed with White Cloak without realizing who he really was, he taught you how to use your chi, didn't he?" Walter's punch froze and distorted in the middle. His eyes widened, his face drained of color. No movement was made. Only wind. "Isn't that right?"
The Water Minor slouched his blistered hand back to his side and looked hard at the floor. He seemed guilty, as if he were hiding something in tight secretion, not strong enough to lock it completely. No signs of tension were anywhere. "Yes," he answered in solemnity. "But, only one way. I have no intentions of -" Walter was cut off short.
"I know, I know." The older water element sighed. "It wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing even if you did want to become a Scholar, however, that one way he taught you – you know it is a forbidden way of using it, did you not?" Tsukansu said aloud, as if wanting to make sure the whole world heard him. Walter seemed more solemn, more gone, away. His spirit wasn't present, absent. He was raising his voice, ready to yell, ready to demand, ready to scold.
"Yes." This was his first answer. Tsukansu knew there was more. So did Walter. And together, they both waited. No answer ever came.
"You can't play around with karma, Walter," Tsukansu said in a lower voice this time. "We can only hope that it won't affect you as bad." No reply. "Walter, do you hear me?" he said, raising his voice only a little.
"Yes," he immediately retorted. His eyes were still glued to the floor in fake shame, unnecessary guilt. Or was it?
"Good. Now, another thing." Walter seemed to tense now. He lifted his head, lifting the blanket of shade over his eyes. He turned his head and stared deep into Tsukansu, as if sleuthing him, searching him, examining him the best he could for something more, something hidden, something he remained a secret to use against him, blackmail. Insecure paranoia this was. "I clearly know your goals that you have in sight for the future," Tsukansu began to explain. Walter listened closely. Just the world "purpose" caught his attention completely. Or was it, "I know?" He couldn't decide. "You just have to promise me something. Whatever you choose to do, make sure it benefits most people, and not only you." Walter said nothing.
Tsukansu began to start away from him, back into the outside of the forest to leave him alone with his training, providing no sense of closure whatsoever to the conversation. Grass and leaves rustled in an instrumental choir of dance. Walter once again brought his stare to the floor. He waited as he slowly listened to the pace of Tsukansu's fading steps. They no longer looked at each other. They no longer targeted each other with their deathly looks, their thieving glares of wanted hate, but the hate never there, never on time. "Why?" Walter said in a murmur, so barely that only a tiny, tiny mouse close up could hear him. Tsukansu froze in his tracks. Leaves stopped in the middle of their chorus of grass and nature. "Why?" he repeated, louder this time. Tsukansu had the sudden instinct to turn around and smack the boy. "Why should I help other people, other societies, after being the exact same ones that caused all the pain for me?" he asked in a rising voice. His hurt, tired hands clenched tightly, hatefully, grudgingly at his side, ready to shed forgotten tears of sweat, nails digging into soft, fragile skin in detest, hate. "Society can go to hell for all I -" Once more he was cut off.
"Enough!" Tsukansu demanded, quickly turning around that it even caught Walter by surprise, stopping his words in their streaming flow of hate, hate, and more malleable hate. Hate spilling everywhere like a pool, coming from his sickening, revulsion lips like a hose, pouring out in spilt milk containers, big lumps heavyset on the ground, weighing and weighing themselves with their eternal, immersive importance that they began to weigh deep into the ground. Hell began. A loud slam echoed through the rustle of trees. The vengeance of a hurt, wounded tree was fulfilled by another.
It was Walter's body that was hard against the surface of the prickly body of the tree. His eyes winced, preparation for pain, fingers tightly closing in on his neck, a scarf of skin and threat as he was lifted from his feet, feeling the weakness grow into him from his legs. His brown eyes stared down at Tsukansu, who was now technically shorter than him. "You think that the world revolves around you?" Tsukansu screamed, leaning in on the Minor, a little to close for comfort. He was about to spit all over the teenager. "You think just because you complete your goals, society will cheer for you!?" Predictions were right. Angry spit was all over his face, caking his skin like embellishments on a beautiful celebration cake, the affair bringing out even more of its beauty hidden inside, one that would have never been able to live if not for the experience that occurred right now and then. "Your accomplishments, your goals, won't mean shit if the world goes down in bits and pieces and flames to hell when you just got your vengeance!" The grip around his neck tightened. Walter couldn't help but other a weak, low cry from under his breath. The far, faraway side of him finally got to speak, whimpering like that old child he was back then. Walter began to push that personality back further in the past, more and more. He never wanted to be that person again. Never.
The boy strained a tiny, tiny bit, unnoticed muscle clenching inside him. Then, calming himself, Walter exhaled from blank, confused lips an exhale of relief and acceptance, resistant acceptance. "Fine," he whispered just barely, voice choked and restrained. The throttling hand released itself from the boy's neck. The Water Minor dropped to the floor, hard on his butt as he felt the air pour back into his lungs once more. He took a few heavy breaths, then began short-term ones, normal ones.
Tsukansu, saying nothing, resumed his walking. He was about the same place as he was before when he said, "Walter." The called Minor turned his head, as if forced to pay close attention. His expression was hard, cross, unforgiving, unwanted, uncaring. "Don't get lost." Then, leaving the boy with words of dazzle and puzzlement, Tsukansu started again, crunching leaves and grass under his shoes as he left the forest. Walter watched him as he slowly faded away into a dot. He got farther, farther away. More and more distant, unable to be caught now, no, not at the pace Walter was going. So far, far away. He became farther, and farther, and farther, and farther, until he was a tiny, tiny dot of sensation, tiny dot of unnoticed society, and then, until, he was nothing.
Slowly, Walter turned forward, feet unmotivated to move, unable to get up. His feet seemed suddenly too tired. Much too tired for movement. Arms no longer wanted to lift the strained body up. He sighed in his weakness, staring at the crawling, despaired roots of a tree as he tightly clenched his fist at his side, emotion controlling his hand with puppet strings, tightening them, locking them, holding them until they shook uncontrollably. Strong emotions poured into his arm, ready to punch something to bits. His teeth tightly ground each other as his eyes narrowed crossly, no one there to give it to, even more saddening.
Later, Tsukansu muttered to himself to add something to his last statement. "Not like I did."