Hisses of mid-day chimed themselves thoroughly throughout the dimension, carrying messages of gods, omens of the sky. Ears of the sick, orange walls listened, heard, attained the word of cloud, the sentences of the sun and grammar of the moon. Silence. All sources of strong light gasped, breathing in their own conceived, hiding away hope like an empty juice box refilled. Fingers of burning darkness dominated walls, corners, ceilings. They fingered ground and floor, wide and narrow spaces, dark and gloomy nights as well as cheery, blissful days. However, despite the dissolved existence of hope, one room held one character that worked – fought for hope, fought with it, allied it.
Miroku Teresa gasped heavily, breathing in and out, in and out, as if giving birth. Her heavy breaths filled the whole room, the wide, limitless room. Her purple streaks were flustered, unorganized on her head, dancing, crawling, stringing around each other, hateful snaking and constricting with the worse split ends one could have. Her energy resources became as dry as an oasis mirage – empty and humid with the forgotten memories of condensation waiting to come back. Not yet, she thought. Not yet, not yet, not yet. She continued to beg of her arms, her legs, her feet, her eyes. She wouldn't give up; she didn't plan to, either. Her eyes were spectacled with scribbled stars, her cheeks weary and tired, unable to inflate further with cool, least claming air. Her skin felt hot. Her face felt hot. Everywhere burned from tiresome sweat.
Hardly, she tried to pose herself into a prepared fighting position. Her fists clenched unevenly, dwindled fingers of energy in great need of replacement, ancient, old fingers grasping onto what little chances left, little tiny specks of time, opportunity. Feet positioned skillfully, she waited, time after time breathing over and over, a small pattern of rising and falling for her body. Smoke hissed everywhere, proof of work, proof of sweat, blood, tears. Indents in the ground and cracks on the wall erupted with an eerie moan of pain. Damaged ceilings crumbled. Then, among the transparent smoke stood Minoa, restless with a patient, manipulated energy. Eyes burned with passion, tired marks stretched all over her like hey had been recklessly painted on, relentlessly masking her with merciless intent; she commit herself to a false light breathing, acting as if she were not tired at all. Her white hair was not as flustered, not as tired, not as hateful to itself as Teresa's was. "You've gained more confidence," Minoa complimented from afar. Her voice boomed, echoed, shattered. "The old you would've given up by now. What's changed about you?" she asked, curious.
It was true. And Teresa knew it, even gladder to hear it. "Eric…" she managed to speak through wide, unsealed lips. Minoa seemed shocked, even though she really shouldn't be. "Eric made me realize bonds aren't useless. He gave me confidence, he gave me clarification. This is how I will pay my debt I caused myself from the beginning of this whole Minors dilemma, and this is why I won't let myself give up that easily," Teresa explained. More heavy breaths came in, inhaled and exhaled in a claming manner, confidence winding, binding, strong.
No expressive reaction from Minoa's face. "I see," she said rather loudly. The walls gave way to a wider path for her voice. "Just as I thought," she began. Teresa, shocked with astonishment, continued to listen. I wouldn't be surprised if he changes everyone, Minoa thought to herself in secretion. "Well, then, let's go!" Minoa resumed the fight. Teresa shifted; becoming filled with awareness, alert for any movement, any slight difference in the area. Minoa lifted her eyes and showed her tired, stretched pentacles.
Teresa did the same, eyes cross with mean preparation, readiness filled to the brim. "I won't lose to you!" she promised, swearing her life on it with her confident fingers. Four stars glimmered in the blank light, and glared at each other, ready to do some real damage.
PoVS
The sun was broad, high in the sky to the highest point in the zenith. Muscular rays of gold bounced and scattered from clouds, shot and struck at the ground like bolts of lightning, a memory, a wish for a storm. The sun wanted – needed a rest. Poor Apollo could not keep his eyes open for half the day any longer. Oh, how he wished for a leisurely cloud to lid his eyes, for his eyelids had been burned off, a curse of hate by the more powerful. Hissing streams of vertical steam and smoke drifted upward, wishing to be Apollo's pet while the position was still available. They were wafted and taken away by the selfish wind, angry with their black, puffy frowns, fists of white smoke clenched in grudged detestation. No way… Hanabikai thought in disbelief, breathing heavily. His brown hair flustered, he tried hard to search, sleuth for his breath. Detective lips found no traces of it anywhere. His breath had completely run off, along with his comfort. Hanabikai's brown eyes flickered with past's passion, fists along his face, ready for punching, beating, bluntly fighting as he caught the rivers of smoke in the corners of his helpless eyes. This was way too fast, he told himself, calmed. I haven't seen so much incredible power and potential since… since me.
His glare fell upon the very important Minor, Eric. The teenager held his fists out, eyes narrow and ready, ready for more, asking for more. Slits between clenched, tightened fingers hissed with white, fiery smoke. It was hot against his skin, and his body, regularly tired yet carried by never-lost confidence, neither trembled nor shrugged at the sign of training. Sweat ran down his face as the hot, blazing sun set him ablaze more than a Fire Minor should. Amazing was this boy, important was he as well. A perfect match for a main character indeed, Hanabikai thought as he stared nostalgically into Eric's eyes. Something flickered in the sunlight. Was that… a blink from Apollo? Oh, has this God finally come to resent his duties? How horrid! What will the world do without him? What would the Minors do without Eric? No, no need to think of this, ever. It would never happen! I guess I shouldn't be surprised, the Fire Council thought to himself in awe.
Stares continued to be traded, pointless exchanges of the same glare over and over and over again. "Are we finished?" Eric asked, breathing from his nose, as if trying to use his mouth the least out of all the body parts. Perspiration came from his fingers and dripped to the ground, heating cool grass.
"Yeah, yeah," Hanabikai said, snapping out of his awed thoughts, thoughts of the amazed, thoughts of the past. "For now, anyway," Hanabikai went on. "Keep practicing. You'll have the hang of it sooner of later."
Eric nodded, neither happy nor sad to hear the news of training put to an end. He was glad. He had learned something new. Something he could help people with, someone he could make a difference with. Maybe... just maybe I can use the new move to help the rest of the Minors, the rest on my team. He tightened his fist as he watched it, watching the hissing, snaking white smoke dust away from the palm of his hot, blazing hand that seemed to burn deep with a coaled fire inside. It was strange how the hotness of it seemed so normal, so harmless. Taking his eyes off of it, he began to walk past with certain gratitude towards Hanabikai, a Council Member to respect indeed. He was just about past his shoulder when the council whispered into his ear. "You know, Eric," he began. "If there had to be one," he continued. "You'd be chosen for the position of a leader for the whole Minors team."
Eric turned and stared, wondering if this was a joke. The glinting of Hanabikai's eyes were a surefire honesty, sincerity filling his tanned expression. "You've got the most potential, most will, after all," Hanabikai went on saying. "Just make sure you don't forget about your powers' links."
"Yeah," Eric promised, turning his head back. Hanabikai's eyes broadened in wonder, a wonder to why Eric had not given his opinion about the compliment he had made. Did he not care? "As for a position of the leader," Eric said, walking just a few thoughtful steps before stopping again. "I'd think I'd tie with Kasumi Walter, to say the least." Kasumi Walter? Hanabikai thought in his mind as he watched his Minor walk slowly away. The Water Minor? Inside, the council smirked happily, nostalgically. It's no wonder, huh? He thought. "Hey," Eric stopped himself again.
Hanabikai, once more, flashed an uneven gesture. Clouds seemed to intensify the sunlight now instead of blocking it. Crazed heat this was. Even for Fire Minors. "Hm? What is it?" the council asked, brushing the backside of his hand against his forehead, wiping perspiration away to his ablaze fingers.
"Shouldn't we get going?" the Fire Minor asked as he turned almost completely around, staring into Hanabikai's facial expression, as if detecting him, searching him for something more, something he hid. Hanabikai suddenly felt intervened, exposed, revealed of all secrets; mind emptied out of all thoughts like a garbage can flipped upside down and a tiny, lanky nerd being flipped upside down by the playground bully for his lunch money that clinked with an innocent luster to the asphalt ground, helpless fingers unreachable to their pocket homes. This was the only time the American Eagle was shamed. "We should be expecting Hibiyomi soon, right?" Eric went on.
"Mm," Hanabikai murmured in thought. He looked up at the sky, thinking, searching for the answer inside their concealed, scolded rain. He thought for valuable seconds and answered, "Yeah. You go on ahead. I have some business to attend to."
"Business?" Eric asked as he saw his council counterpart turn his head towards the towering trees of the brightly lit forest. His gaze followed. Then, they returned to each other, as if exchanging thoughts, information, data.
"Yeah," Hanabikai answered with uninformative sense, bluntly, dull as a number two pencil that never, never wanted to be used ever again. "Go," he insisted, or more like, commanded. Apollo blinked.
Eric turned his body backward and started heading for the darker parts of the Inner World again, a cool place to rest, but then, changing his mind, just walked towards the lake, where many rocks surrounded the body of water. "Don't go messing around, Hanabikai," the eighteen year old boy joked. Hanabikai smirked and felt proud of such an accomplishment this boy was. Little did he know that he had many problems, despite the fact that the council knew all about his past. However, he knew nothing of his present, leaving him behind.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," was the repetitive answer of the brown-haired council member. Then, walking towards the pillaring trees, he looked back at the soft steps of Kahibi Eric. Then, he wondered: Does Eric look more like me without that bandanna? A foolish thought indeed, but hey, they could only be who they were. Hanabikai smirked in his thoughts and turned back to the forest, looking into the slits caused by bodies of faraway, distant trees. And then, inside them, he saw another brown-haired Minor, also training his butt off. Walter, he headed forward, becoming serious. I won't waste my time, he promised himself.
Eric walked towards the rocks. Sunlight lit them up with bright texture, the lake water splashed towards them, wanting to cool them as they begged and pleaded with a craving thirst. However, the water was not strong enough, and both sides became sad. Turning to a rather tall rock's body, Eric fixated his stance and held his fists to his chest, his side. They began to hiss with a crazed white smoke again as he felt the heat charge up deep within him, as if he were a volcano that was about to burst with lava. I shouldn't let me, or the rest of the people on "my" team down, Eric thought. I'll train now. He held up his fist and preparation, and white smoke erupted, clouding his sight somewhat into a steamy transparency. Then, seconds later, he charged, screamed.
PoVS
Darkness blistered the ground, the walls, the ceiling, swirls of hate snaking around invisible bars. Daniel thought deeply, about the past, the future, the present. Currently, the past was on his mind. Back then… he recollected. He brought forth moments of the past, traces of happenings, events that he had been through with Teresa and his brother, Kenneth. He remembered so desperately trying to defend his brother from the unseen enemy, taking so many hits, even three daggers to the stomach for him. However, despite the promise he made Shintenmaru when they had fought, Daniel couldn't help it. He had to admit it to himself.
He was scared. Yes, he had promised Shitnenmaru to never be scared again and to take on challenged with confidence; however, to promise such a thing without knowing what you had to do was pointless. It was like someone telling you to do the assignment when they had just walked up to you, and surely enough, you'd be confused, asking "What assignment?" because you simply did not know the directions, or the task needed to be completed. However, in this case, Daniel knew what the task was, however, he did not know of the sacrifice needed to make it reality. This was the most important.
He sat in his fragile solitaire silence as he continued to think. He traced the triple-daggered wound on his stomach. Pain shot from his fingers and caused him to wince. It hasn't healed completely yet, the redhead thought. He felt the fabric bandages that seemed slightly indifferent to him, his senses, his mind. I have such a great mind, but for what? Daniel thought. What's the point if I'm always too scared to do anything, but start acting, posing like I'm not? I can't lie to myself. That's the worst kind of dishonesty. He sighed, depressed.
Suddenly, the door was shaken by a many knocks. The redhead Minor picked his head up and stared to the half-shaded door. The darkness even ate at that, gluttony biting away the escape, the portal of retreat. It would forever keep Daniel in this shadowy prison of thought. Thoughts that would never be able to get out, thoughts always left unwritten, unbothered, unsaid by sealed, cold lips. There was a sudden frost that fell into the room, and now, even Daniel seemed so afraid to answer the door. "Who's there?" Daniel called out, thinking he was slowly becoming paranoid. His intention was to go into such denial; push it to the back of his mind as far as he could so that it would become unreal. However, now, he was just lying to himself again. How pathetic, he thought of himself.
"Daniel?" a muffled voice scuffled against the door. Golden doorknob clicked, rattled, shook in eager entrance.
Daniel remembered the voice immediately. It couldn't be. What would he want? At this time? "Shintenmaru?" he called out in a mutter, an astonished mutter.
Skipping three days later, the day remained broad. Evening neared, the cold frothy haze began to seep in from far away. Not a soul was outside the dark part of the dimension. Even the confidence of Walter had gone back, the importance mystery of Eric as well.
Yomi Derek sat in a dark, comfortable, blatant room unattended. A boredom fist supported his cheek, his head up. He sat in an easing red chair, comfort to his back. It was neither hot or cold, loud or quiet. The air was not thick, nor was it thin. He sighed a long sigh; the only thing for certain was that the air was dull, blank with no words spoken, empty with any excitement exhaled. He was alone in this solitary confinement of injustice, wishing, hoping for something new to come his way. His tanned skin had somewhat faded, spending three days indoors. He had gone out to train during these few days, however, Hibiyomi had not been there, so he did not learn much.
Everyone's been training for the past three days while I did nothing, he thought of himself in shame. Hibiyomi… where've you been? Derek thought in astonishment. Kakori had told him earlier in the past few days that he had business to attend to. But what kind of business was this? It made no sense to him, and Derek was mad, irritated. Am I really going to let someone like Zack surpass me? Impossible, Derek muttered in his mind in a grumble, grumpy, yet not cranky. I've been lucky enough for Madasora-sama to teach me about my links. Once more, this black-haired boy sighed.
Suddenly, there was a tap at the threshold of an empty doorway. Someone's presence was mysteriously here. And he, he did not notice it, no matter how sleuth-like this Minor was. Turning his head almost eagerly, he lifted his head from the boredom fist of support. Ease slowly sunk into him once again, and he didn't know why. His eyes broadened in surprise, and he was happy to see – Hibiyomi. However, he didn't know that he really shouldn't be. A cold, hard glare met his surprised ones, and with a low mutter, Derek whispered out in a choke, "Hibiyomi? It's Hibiyomi-sama!" Astonishment of as-if-on-cue blew in chunks into his mind, as if sneezing.
Hibiyomi, saying nothing and silent with that blackish, shadowy costume wrapped around him and gave him somewhat sharpened, oval eyes, narrowed. His stare became as icy as a glacier, cold as the night. The eerie blackness of his pleading, devious fingers were abnormally crooked, crooked in hate, grudge, detestation, mysteriousness and enigma, a curtain of unsure feelings wrapped all around him. Burning darkness cooked Derek with an ominous feeling. The teenage boy began to wonder what was wrong. He assumed nothing was wrong and asked, "Where've you been?" as he let out his pas thought. He still couldn't believe his council counterpart was finally back, right after he had thought of him. How creepy was that, really?
No answer came. Derek began to wonder what was wrong. Eyes narrowed at him, and Derek suddenly became nervous, an emotion he hadn't felt for a long, long time. It took a lot to make this boy nervous. Hibiyomi sure was… amazing… in his own, twisted, distorted ways, he was amazing, eye-catching to audiences. Eye-catching indeed. Darkness seemed to fear him, wanting to eat at his new, unrecognized presence, yet much too afraid to do so. The earth seemed to tilt, and confusion and nausea suddenly began to take over Derek. The black-haired boy wondered why there was no answer, lifting a perspiring brow towards his toned forehead.
"Derek…" Hibiyomi asked, creepily and raspy. Derek stretched his eyes without recognizing it.
"What's wrong?" Derek asked, suspicion filling him. Nervous habits forgotten seemed to twitch in his mind.
"How many wounds do you have?" Hibiyomi suddenly asked.
"What?" the boy seemed confused. "What does that have to do with anything?" Darkness froze. Time went on, scarce.
"Tell me… how many? How many did you get from coming back from the Swamp of Mystery?" he insisted in retort.
"I-I don't know," the teenager boy with straight black hair replied, nervous now. "Why? You're sounding crazy!"
"I know why," Hibiyomi assumed. His eyes showed no emotion whatsoever. His lips were left unseen. Darkness erupted, tried to crawl away but too afraid to move, as if Hibiyomi posed a threat to something even of nature. Darkness – it swirled. Only the daring ones did, however. Hibiyomi, impatient, glared. Murderous attempt unashamed and proud glinted like a lustrous knife in the council's eyes, certain fault seeming to slowly grow in him, spreading over him, dominating him. He was no below suspicion, under the line completely, so far below that it was scary – even for Derek. "You showed too much!" Hibiyomi suddenly cried out, yet calm. His emotions began to pour out like spilt milk, a horrid shatter of broken glass and a crazed, out of control wave of white liquid splashing and crashing like a wave – a wave of hell from the depths of the eternal pitfall of sin. "You showed too much of it! You weren't prepared!"
Just what the hell is he talking about? Has he gone completely mental? Derek thought, eyes broadened. His feet told him to get up and run away, but his mind told him that that would be showing too much… too much of… No way. Is that what Hibiyomi was saying? How would – no. What? No! Confusion and puzzlement dazzled and danced and twinkled around Yomi Derek, fizzing him into a deep loss of mind, a great emergence of uncertainty and a slow drowning of helpless confusion and disorder, helpless, now drowning him and washing it away… away… away into a deep, unclear distance. Away…away…away…