Will-o-wisps of green swam in the air like, if possible, emerald pearls. Shreds of purple sliced the air, unstable, no direction whatsoever, lost in an absence of authoritative guidance. Darkness and light eroded each other, rubbing against each other in a friction competition of hate, a grudged tension that they wore off against each other, both sides never winning, both sides never losing. Drops of sweat flew and lingered in the air, hanging like the barbed wire of a fence, disallowing entrance without contact. Shouts and confident screams of determination clogged the wide, empty room. The jade spheres sliced apart, and then, grew back together. They would not die; they would not wither away no matter how carefully you struck them, how powerfully you blasted them. Their confidence was just as good as that of this Minor.
Miroku Teresa sliced, spun, twirled with her purple hair craze, holding the unstable, constant rays of purple energy in her left hand, slicing, dicing the spirits with an uncontrolled path, a dance of darkness. Her tired, exasperated gasps and grasps exhausted her with tedious fatigue, a tolerance slowly leaking out of her like a carelessly closed faucet. Dark, empty walls huddled distantly away; ceiling high, much too high for limits. She continued to slice them, sweaty, tired, yet not giving up. Even though I haven't even barely completed this move, Teresa thought as she twisted her body and wound her arms crazily in the air to prevent the wisps from getting too near. I'm going to finish it, she promised herself. Even though it's hard, even though I may fail, I have a purpose!
And Eric… she let her thoughts wander off. Thank you for making me realize this. You really are the main character in a story like this. She imagined his smile, his protective arms and actions. They would never cease; she knew this, and she would follow his footsteps. What was the point of having relationships with others, if you didn't even care enough to protect it? It's obvious you're more amazing than any of us, Teresa thought as she took one more tedious spin. Sounds of splicing in the air and regeneration repeated like a broken record to Teresa's now reckless ears. She continued frantically, swaying her arms in an unorganized pattern, a crazy, reckless rush of attack, a frenzy of no succession.
"You know, if you keep going at this rate, you'll collapse from an overuse of Half Spirit energy, right?" a voice entered the room. Teresa gasped. She had not expected someone – anyone to come and find her. She had not expected company at all. She wondered what he wanted. The ghosts whispered silently in a mixed dance pattern, communicating with aired footsteps. Teresa turned, found Lance at the threshold of the faraway door. He leaned his shoulder against the wall's spin and smiled. Half his body remained blanketed in a secretive darkness, a darkness that hid his legs, a darkness that hid his body, ate at it while he had no idea what was going on. He was like a floating body and face – a supernatural being of pastime death, levitating at the threshold of the door like a mystic fortune ready to be told, smiling an eerie, much too happy smile.
Retreating her tiresome glance, Teresa turned back. Her shoulders were slouched, unable to lift themselves from their sockets, her knees crumbled together for the little support she needed left. It was clear to Lance that the only thing that drove her more was her confidence. But with no guidance on how to do what she wanted, sheer confidence would not be enough. A raw determination was useless without something to put it into. "I have no choice," Teresa answered him. "It doesn't matter what happens to me anymore."
Lance took a while before he resumed speaking again. Suddenly, he made the quickest subject change. What he said had nothing to do with anything on Teresa's mind. "Your posture is perfect when you try to attack, yet the attack itself is unstable," Lance began. Teresa listened carefully, her eyes flashing in a broad circle as she suddenly found interest, suddenly found words that had meaning. "Your link is at the left hand, isn't it?" he went on to say, his voice continuing to drone on and on behind her. She froze, wanting to slice more, but couldn't. It was beyond understanding. "That's why you're forced to use your left hand only," Lance continued.
"So?" Teresa muttered without much strength. She was so tired out; she took heavy breaths between syllables, each tiny little vowel calling the point of her next breath. This would prove that the pen, or lips in this matter, is much more powerful than a sword. "That won't stop me," Teresa went on to say.
"Maybe that won't, but your attack will," Lance confused her. He knew this. "It doesn't have a definite shape yet," he explained.
"And…?" Teresa asked.
"Listen," Lance half-snapped. "I understand that you won't let things get in your way, but you have to realize that there are certain concepts you must fulfill in order to achieve what you want!" Lance scolded coldly. Teresa jerked her head up quickly, eyes stretching outward. She seemed surprised at the sudden scorn. Then, realizing that what Lance was saying was indeed correct, she scowled, bringing her stare onto the floor in disappointment, guilt, shame.
"Even so," she began once more. Her voice was more solemn, calmer. Her confidence – she locked it up, for now. "How are you helping me by telling me that?" she asked, actually asking for help now.
"Look," Lance began to instruct as he took the liberty to bring himself over. He walked towards her. His steps clicked godlily against the ground, a clinking hope for Teresa. She was, at some point, happy. 'It's obvious you want to slice these green things, right?" Lance asked, appearing behind her with a delicate, soft hand on her shoulder.
She widened her eyes in shock. Her lips failed to move, then, beginning to tremble, found the ability to form words once more. "Wait," she stopped him right then and there. "You- You can see them?" she asked, turning around past her shoulder. She met the innocent glare of Lance. Her eyes would cease to be amazed.
"You'd be amazed at what I can do," Lance said with a creepy, eerie smile. Teresa didn't know if she should be happy or totally crept out by that. Lance sensed this with his eye for detail, and then, amused, smiled once more, a happy, innocent grin. "It's my family's talent, Teresa. It's nothing to be scared about. Your family's Visible Darkness actually comes from a more advanced type of detailed senses from my family." Teresa seemed shocked, frozen in certain disbelief. "Well, you are from the Miroku family, correct?" Teresa gulped, and nodded. "Well, then."
Teresa cleared her throat, trying to regain comfort. "Okay, anyway, if you want to really break them apart, just slice them. Make your force-field energy into this kind of sword thing. It's a very basic thing, and considering your power, it should make a hell of a sword," Lance told Teresa, taking his hand off her shoulder. "Make a sword and keep it flowing in a telekinetic loop. In order to mend something so unstable…" Lance began to instruct. He held his arms out for example, and closed it to a sword-grip position. A sloppy fog of thick metal came out and eroded the air, hissing as it mystically crawled outward. Teresa watched it flow out in thick, puffy chunks with no luster whatsoever… somewhat. "You must give it a direction in which to go." Slowly, the metal churned and made itself into a constantly moving sword, a chainsaw motion of some sort. Now it looked perfect. Now, it looked useable. "Try it," he suggested. He drew back in the metal.
Teresa, after seconds, got the hang of it. "Good. Now you have it. All you have to do is practice using your left hand. Energy discharge won't come as easy with your right, being as there's no link to your power there." Teresa, saying nothing because of a breathtaking awe, began to slice the greenish orbs. One of them quickly died, faded.
"Lance," she said suddenly, catching her breath. Lance put a questionable look on his face. "Thank you," she turned to him, and smiled. Gratitude got to his expression, and Lance, he smiled back.
"No problem," he said quickly. "But we shouldn't waste anymore time."
"What do you mean?" she asked, interest piqued. Lance began to head for the door, leaving Teresa in curiosity. Then, he turned, looking back at her. A sensitive expression spread on her face.
"Eric's fighting Hibiyomi," he said seriously, a quick change of tone. Teresa's face froze. Blank thoughts burst from her mind.
"What?" she cried aloud.
Moments later, the two found themselves walking, casually and un-casually through the halls. Lance, taking careful measurements into finding where each path lead to, walked slowly, carefully, calmly. Teresa, frantic, wanting to hurry and filled with haste, didn't. "Are you serious?" she asked after Lance had explained to her what had happened. "That's the reason?"
"Yeah, he sure is amazing isn't he?" Lance said, feeling the walls for any slight clues of vibration other than their voices. "This way!" he called out as he ran down the closest hall. Teresa, bringing herself up to her energy quickly caught up. She followed Lance down the hall, the long, eerie hall. Eric… she thought. What have you gotten yourself into? Please… don't get hurt.
PoVS
After Eric had brought himself back to his feet, he continued with the punching. His convinced fist was set ablaze, hot flames hissing out in a bright dance of fire. Hibiyomi blocked easily, dodging to the left, the right, the left again, over and over in a repetitive sequence that failed to stop, that failed to give up. Everyone watched, eyes tense and filled with wonder. I'm… not… giving up, Eric thought as he continued with the punches. Each failure of a punch just drove him to work harder to make them succeed. I can't let myself – the others down! Hibiyomi seemed to be having fun, amused.
Hibiyomi… I know you care about them but… this is taking it much too far, Hanabikai thought, brown brows puckering in sympathy, worrisome eyes filled with moist, as if he were about to cry. A sudden clicking took place behind him. He, as well as every other council turned. Their eyes found Madasora, the Wind Council, slowly pacing away from them, walking slowly, carefully away. His clicking shoes brought them to alert that he was moving. Madasora… where is he going? Hanabikai thought as the councils watched him fade away into darkness.
Inside his mind, Hibiyomi sneered at Eric's efforts. It's easy to detect where his attacks are coming from by watching the direction of flame streaks as they pull back. How simple, he thought. His thoughts gave him no confidence, or any emotion for that matter. Emotions didn't even stimulate thoughts anymore. It took years of practice to achieve that. As for his emotion… Hibiyomi brought himself far away from Eric as the boy was caught in a binding of his feet in shadow. He pulled forward, then back as he noticed he couldn't move. His fist's flames were put to no use. They blazed on, wishing, hoping to touch someone, to damage something. Wishes like this would never be fulfilled.
Hibiyomi focused, bringing his stance together, comfortably as the shadows pressured themselves around Eric's feet. He couldn't move – at all. Confidence is easily brought down by attacks that don't even give you a chance. Eric, feeling the sudden burst of energy from below him, widened his eyes as the shadows underneath him blasted him outward, as if spitting him out like food that tasted of worms and dirt. The boy, shocked, was sent into the air where he was somewhat suspended.
"Tada Kage: Kamisori no Akuma! –Freed Shadows: Demon Razors-" Hibiyomi declared, charging his energy together. From the floor stretched more shadow, and those shadows – they churned and spread and dominated most of the room. People's shocked faces showed as Eric seemed to struggle in midair, somehow the pain still there after a long ten seconds. Ten seconds of hell, but now, he would feel even more hell. Good luck, wished most people. Others had no thoughts at all, minds emptied out.
I can't do anything in midair, Eric thought, one eye winced and teeth tightly ground. Damn it! Suddenly, sharp, thick needles blasted from the ground below Eric, ready to cut and slice him into tiny little pieces. People's tension stretched, connected, bound together for endurance before someone collapsed. Eric, watching the needles come slowly, proved his last thoughts wrong. A new idea springing into his mind, Eric brought his head more down and took in a huge gasp of air. No way! Hanabikai thought. Is he really able to…?
The needles approached, sharp screeching from below coming towards faster and faster. Just as they were half a foot away from Eric's confidence, Eric breathed out his huge, screaming puff of heat. The banshee high-pitched shrieks of the fire burst in the air, reddening the walls with a bright, orange light, blistering with heat and opposing the needles, burning them out. A bright cloud of red was in the middle of the room and lit up people's faces with awe. Mouths dropped open like open registers, proving that they held nothing of value to any bypassing robbers. Eyes emptied out and filled with a more blatant moist now, thanks to the crazed heat of flame. Eric's body was lit up in midair, and now, invisible in the bright light. It was like having a sun in the middle of the huge room that seemed like it could even fit a sun. Hibiyomi, not at all impressed, waited for the flames to die out. He narrowed his eyes, readying himself.
The flames soon died out, the dragon cries of blaze and heat dispersing into a non-luminary body once more. The evanescence of the fire finally died; and now, finding a good opening, Hibiyomi charged in. In a flash, he was right below Eric's face, and the powered audience, as well as Eric, widened their eyes after such a flash. "Die!" Hibiyomi cried out as he jeered a punch right into Eric's jaw, sending him flying upward in a vertical cartwheel. Cries of awe and names shot out, unheard. Shit! Eric thought to himself as the immense velocity of his spinning churned the contents of his stomach in a roller coaster that had no end, for when it reached the stop sign, it kept going, it kept going and going and going.
Another flash. Hibiyomi found himself above Eric now, midair, waiting for Eric's body to flip closer when finally – a huge, pummeling blow downward, sending him plummeting to the ground like a malfunctioning rocket in space, now blazing downward in a hellish shooting star. Eric landed into the ground with a horrid crack, a sickening boom with sending a huge cloud of dust upward, as well as great, enormous masses of plaster. The blow forced him to bluster out a huge exhale of knocked out air. He coughed, helpless, weak.
Hibiyomi let gravity bring him down and as soon as it did, he crashed right on top of Eric. Cries of a pained, demised teenager shout out from a titanic cloud of smoke that erupted with even more dust and plaster as the second presence plummeted downward. Audience's eyes widened, froze, waited. Fists clenched. "Eric-san!" Daniel cried out. Damn it! he thought clenching his fists and teeth together. He growled, and Kenneth, trying to calm him, put a delicate hand on his shoulder. A sympathetic look was caught in Daniel's eyes. Then, the redhead calmed down. Clenched fists and ground teeth loosened.
Inside the eruption of smoke, Hibiyomi was practically kneeling on top of Eric, knee inside his ribcage, playing with them like a xylophone. Pain shot through the teen everywhere, and despaired cries of torture the only thing the council and Minors could see, and that being a fact, they were scared. Hibiyomi's knee continued to jeer inside Eric's body. The teenager lay inside a hole of his own creation, a hole from his giant rocketing. Smoke surrounded them, a coffin of dirt, a coffin of fear. Walls of brownish gray puffs rolled around them like a twister, a tornado ready to tear them apart and shred them to pieces like a trash sheet of paper.
Coughing out blood in splotches at his side, Eric waited, tried to wash the pain away. "Have you come to yet?" Hibiyomi demanded in a loud voice as if Eric were ten miles away. Eric, eyes barely open and tired stared to his side, away from Hibiyomi. "Don't you realize that you can't beat someone like me?!" he droned on. Eric was helpless; he clenched his fists at his side, unable to lift his arm because of the pressure put on his whole body. Tired, worn out teeth clenched together, their pure whiteness that used to smile in a happy defense were now lost and destroyed inside. He said nothing. He didn't even breathe. "Or do I have to break your limbs in order for you to realize it!?" Hibiyomi demanded once more. "Huh!?"
The Fire Minor turned his head slowly. His eyes were slouched, effortless. His stare wandered to Hibiyomi's unforgiving, merciless ones as his legs and arms remained still. Then, with a growing amount of energy, the brown-haired boy narrowed his eyes, narrowed them and growled. Hibiyomi seemed amused. "I…" he spat out confidently once again. He leaned his head forward; he brought his arm to his side. "I'm not giving up!" Eric reeled in a sudden punch and thrust it towards Hibiyomi's ever so close face. A dark, ebony hand held the punching fist's anger and locked it up. It resisted and shook at first but then, finally, the closed palm drained the fist of all power.
"You don't stand a chance against me!" Hibiyomi cried out as he got up on his feet, dragging Eric with him. The Fire Minor called out as Hibiyomi took him for a ride again, swinging him just once this time with a normal arm and sending him flying to a nearby wall. Another whole was made. The third one in this fight. How many more will there have to be? The dust around them cleared as more dust piled from Eric's new position. A smaller indent was made this time, sending smoke hissing outward like spewing evil, malevolent thoughts out.
Eric dropped to the floor, preventing breaking his face by stalling his fall with his hands. Even so, he still took damage to his head, and quickly he brought it up, coughing weakly out a splotch of blood. His head fell back down again. Dust and tired marks spread all over him like an extrusive virus. Rocks of plaster rumbled downward in a slide. "You just don't get it, do you?" Hibiyomi shouted from a distance. Now, the only person the Minors and council couldn't see was Eric. However, the main thing they really worried about was Eric, anyway, so suspense continued to linger.
The Fire Minor brought himself up weakly to his feet. He brought a tanned arm to wipe away blood and spit from his face. A mean, unforgiving stare was brought about his eyes, using it to glare right at Hibiyomi as the clouds of gray around him dispersed into shreds of wisps. I'm not giving up… Eric thought in rising confidence. I'm not giving up my purpose, no matter what. I'm not accepting yours as the truth, and I will prove mine correct! Eric fixated his stance, readying himself, forcing himself and his body to operate its best, even though it was incapable of doing that. I'm not admitting that my friends – the ones I care about, the ones I love are useless! I'm not going to let everything I proved right fall apart!
He imagined Teresa, her hopeless, depressed conversation and eyes. Daniel's concerned emerald glaze. Marissa's put down swaying hair and shameful eyes, staring at the clear, innocent waters of the lake. Walter's mean, secretive stare. "I'm not letting it go!" Eric yelled out, filling the whole room with his voice. People cheered inside their minds for his vengeance. Hibiyomi's eyes narrowed, accusing his attempts for being useless. Eric ran out from the cloud of gray, impatient to wait for it to clear for him. Teens jumped up and down in excitement, cheering for him. Others just stood watching. Walter was the exception. He just listened, indifferent of what happened. Marissa's eyes were cheerful, very, very cheerful. She held a fist up for a victory cry in the air. Daniel was tense, hand against the wall, nervous, tense drop of sweat rolling down his cheeks. Don't give in, Eric, he thought. Walter's eyes remained closed.
The Fire Minor continued to charge, clothes fluttering wildly, only time holding the answer on whether it was foolish to make a frontal attack. Eric reeled in a powerful punch, flameless. His feet were fast, not fast enough. His mouth screamed open, cries of determination, of confidence – something that wouldn't give up, like the luminous stars on the faces of the night sky, cheeks of the periwinkle clouds. Eric's eyes were like stars, too, shining brightly with his purpose in mind, nothing but his purpose that drove him the way he was. He shouted, he reeled, and then he… he –
Over.