Darkness abraded against the walls, taking them into surreal reality upon surreal reality. Light and dark once again became decisive, easily distinguished, and at the solemn whisper of news came the disappointment, for this one knowledge told them that darkness was what ruled the world – a great man's efforts became bare against it. Eyes, millions of eyes and dimmed, silhouetted faces watched, each with a mirror image of itself, a crowd of nervous, vigilant insects staring mindlessly into something so crazy, so horrid – that the only thing they could do was watch. They buzzed on, uselessly, mindlessly, annoying stings of air and vibration fingered from gibberish mouths and garbage tongues, strewn like a rusty harp played poorly from the touch of cragged, unholy fingers.
Eyes rolled distantly, scanning skillfully, as if automatically. Their surveillance gaze shot in twenty directions, closely examining, observing, sleuthing like a bloodhound hot on a case. Lustrous purple head of hair shivered in strands, cold, numbing in the darkness. Hands softly felt around the wound, the cut, as low moans from an inhuman shape and being creaked in despair. Voices failed to speak, lost among the audience of eyes, small, tiny stars encased in individually shaped white cages, visible in the blackened dark. One voice, solely returned for one purpose only, began to speak, trying to bring the others back. "How do we go about the current situation? We need a plan," Kanadou asked, eagerly behind his distant, glowing eyes.
Nervous eyes stared, narrowed, unsure. Almost immediately, Shintenmaru began to speak. "First, we need to heal this wound; otherwise, Tsukansu will go crazy. Then, we need to get White Cloak out of this dimension ourselves." Others agreed, some waited, one spoke.
"But we also have to get them for assistance, don't we? That takes a big chunk of our team if we want to do that," Hanabikai answered, piqued the interests of others. "Also, Hibiyomi is still healing from the fight – he won't be able to do anything for a while."
"What you say is true," Shintenmaru admitted. Familiar pair of eyes narrowed. "However, can we really risk using the Minors to go against White Cloak is the question. Especially with Eric healing for the rest of the night." Hanabikai squinted uneasily, unhappily, as if a bit humiliated, along with his own humor and pleasure, a tiny blush of some sort. "In any case, have Madasora and Minoa found anything in Sametsuki's cage?"
"Yeah," Madasora's silly voice came from the deeps. There came the sound of splashing water, flowing waves. Madasora neared – followed by Minoa. The outspoken council held up a hand with a glimmering prowess to it. Its hopeful glints caught many eyes, as the blackened fingers sprawled over the crystal. "A green shard or something, stuck to the wall. It has Sametsuki's blood on it."
"Could that be the object that caused the wound?" Shihou asked, staring at it as if it were to talk, as if it were going to do a trick. Her hands delicately froze on the body of Sametsuki, feeling its low cries utter from within it, a beastly groan, a human pain. Her eyes narrowed, examining the crystal, as if it had the secret of the world inside, so meticulously, so watchfully it hid it away.
"We believe so," Minoa stepped up. More sounds of washing, calm water.
"All right then," Shihou said, glad that she did not had to examine the wound any longer, for Sametsuki was losing a lot of blood – and she was sure that Hyoumaru had, too, at this point.
"No," Shintenmaru interrupted. Voices muttered, defiantly. Heads turned, watched. "Look closer," he insisted. All eyes turned to the green crystal. They seemed questioned, confused. "The shape of the shard doesn't fit the shape of the wound if it were to cut it," Shintenmaru began to explain. Minds began to clear. Ahs began to sound from low, silent voices that still seemed lost. "Also, even if it were to cut it like that, it would have blood on the side, yet it has blood only on the tip – meaning that it had to be shot and shot at Sametsuki's body. However, he has a cut, and not a stab. It's a trick purposely set by White Cloak," the council made everything clear.
"He knows us too well," Kakori muttered sadly, sympathetically, as if for his teammates and his teammates only, not him. "If we had fallen for that trick and healed the wound the wrong way, Tsukansu would have gone berserk and killed us all, especially the Minors." He shivered at the thought, the image of it, of Tsukansu ripping their bodies apart. Kakori winced.
"Keep working on the wound, Shihou," Shintenmaru said tensely, nervously, anxiously, as if he, too, had been imaging the horror that could occur if they did not treat the wound as fast as possible. He picked his glasses up closer towards his face, coyly. Timidly, he began to show all signs of different nervous habits – clearing his throat, swaying his feet against the ground, dusting it, staring off into many, different directions only to find nothing of interest to, once again, change direction. "I need to know how to heal it," he spoke with a cracking voice. He cleared his throat, once again.
PoVS
Hyoumaru's heart pounded against his chest like a thousand drums of a holiday parade as the perspiring heat kept coming. In the darkness, he could only tell the faint, sway movements of Tsukansu's mutated form, barely dodging each attack as they were just a second away, scarcely. A slender, sickeningly skinny arm of gill and shark came from the shadows. Hyoumaru gasped, dodged it, ducking to the side as a loud crash shook the whole room, the crash of Tsukansu's body into the wall.
The council dodged backward and collapsed to the next wall, tripping over his own feet. He gasped an exasperated inhale, and pretended that nothing happened. He crumbled on his feet, legs week, arms tired, lungs pleading, begging for more air even thought it had a hundred times more than enough. The smoke to the opposite wall began to clear – he could see it in the eroding darkness. Dark, demonic eyes pierced the ebony reality, and growled, growled like a beast. Hyoumaru scowled. The beast came, running.
"Stay still, god damn!" Hyoumaru shouted tediously, impatiently. He put his arm out, poured Free Spirit energy outward and out came growing spikes of ice from the ground at Tsukansu's feet. The mutant's feet were caught, halting its skillful run. It growled as it realized it was captured, but no more growls came from then – it no longer moved. It was completely trapped in ice no, the cliché way of doing it. Hyoumaru gasped out tiredly, almost exhilarated completely out of panic. Beckoning, evil eyes stared, petrified into a chilly permafrost. Accusingly, they shot out, pierced the ice interiorly, lit up the darkness with its vindication-stripping stare. The monstrous gaze tightened knots in Hyoumaru's chest and throat. He swallowed – hard. It wasn't good enough; soon his throat would grow tired of swallowing so much and just give up completely.
Hyoumaru healed up as best as he could. He was lucky he had no wounds, but he was pretty tired. Crazy patterns of inhales and exhales told him that he was alive, told him that he kept staying in reality, that he wasn't caught up in a crazed psychosis. He felt like hallucinating, however. Taking his eyes off the block of ice for a second, the sound of cracking filled the air. Chilly temperatures never exited, made by the constant fighting of the Ice and Water Councils. Once again, Hyoumaru swallowed, looking back to the tower of frozen ice, frozen presence He wished he could stay there a bit longer, oh, how he wished he'd just stay frozen until the mutation was over. But no, his wishes did not come true. Tsukansu roared as he ripped apart the ice from just a few cracks, as if he had been not too patient, not too amused. He didn't seem like he felt like waiting, and because of that, Hyoumaru scowled at his own misfortune.
Sneering, Hyoumaru thought, Damn it, Shintenmaru! How long does it take to figure out what kind of wound something has and heal it? Are you really trying to get me to die? Tsukansu roared, demonically, teeth opening wide and broadly like an open hunger of terror, never satisfied, never filled, never fragile enough to break. One more horrid, signifying roar of craved victory came from the distortion of lips from Tsukansu – or what used to be Tsukansu. Now he was a beast, an ugly beast that was a monstrosity of hell, a being of ungodliness. Reluctantly, Hyoumaru lifted himself from the floor in unwanted, non-lusted preparation. A punch to Tsukansu. A dodge from Tsukansu. The beast moved out of the way, to they side, tried to pound Hyoumaru with a smack of his tail. Hyoumaru ducked, turned it to a kick – his kick was caught by creepy, skinny fingers that were blue with decay and cold with death. The hissing ocean breath was hot yet cold, creepy, foul on Hyoumaru's face. Grunting, Hyoumaru was spent spinning, then flying in a flipping cycle, and then crashed into a wall, not strong enough to make a dent in it.
The whole room seemed to shudder in a certain automaticity of reaction, as if it, too, had feelings; it, too, had a mind, a mind that could comprehend pain and suffering between love and healing. Shocked, Hyoumaru spat out, "Damn you!" He fell to the floor, overtaken, taking just a slight moment to catch his breath before his body was torn apart. "That's Hibiyomi's trick!" Touching the ground with his confident palms of prowess, he sent the whole floor frozen in a thin, frosty layer of icy cold blue. It started from his fingers, chilling with a frothy white smoke that was barely seen, barely felt, only breathed. The cold air became numbing, winter-like. Horns of ice, like thorns of a rose emerged from the ground, grew as if they were natural, rising like walls to protect, to defend, as well as attack. The ocean of solid, innocent blue spread outward like a grounded sky, frosted over the darkened, dusty floors and made them forget their harsh, selfish memories. New bedding was beginning, a new layer to succeed, to think, to begin its new life, and slowly dominated the ground with spikes, with powerful claws of ice.
"Damn you," Hyoumaru growled as he dominated the whole floor. Suspecting a chance to lose, Tsukansu jumped from the ground and hung from the ceiling, swinging like an undisciplined child from the corpse ceiling lights. He growled in his own monstrosity, as if respectively, a long tongue drooling from the corners of his mouth with a sticky, incest dribble. Sharp, triangular teeth were like a million fangs as they seemed to be so hateful, so careless that they were to bite their own tongue. Evil eyes glared, challengingly as the whole, blued body continued to swing, swing like a child in a jungle who wanted to be Tarzan. "Damned monst-" Hyoumaru's repeated insult was cut off as Tsukansu, angrily, jumped from the dwindling lights and plummeted to the ground. Hyoumaru was taken by surprise, and now Tsukansu was on top of him, breathing all over his face, the saliva masking him now, the tongue so close, so devious. A low, eerie groan came from the voice of something else – someone not Tsukansu. It was like he had been possessed – but really, he almost was.
Hyoumaru brought his feet to Tsukansu's abdomens. They struggled to move, their arms tightly locked around each other in a wrestle of hold, neither side giving up. Then, finally, with a strong jerk and kick, Hyoumaru sent Tsukansu flying to the other side of the room. He crashed into ice, fell to the floor. Demonically, it cried out, sent a wave of pressurized water in a blasting stream. Hyoumaru smiled, as if glad to be paired up with such an attack. "Come on, Tsukansu, do you really think an attack like that is going to work against me?" Hyoumaru put out his hand to split the wave in two, the streaming water sliced in have as the forked water slowly became ice itself, the whole stream ending soon from realization that it was no use. "Why do you think the rest of the Council sent me to face you, of all people, after all?" All his teammate could do now was growl, angrily, desperately. Hyoumaru knew Tsukansu was despairing inside as well. He sighed, sympathetically. "I can't believe this; it's like when the Minors are around, we actually have to get off our butts to save their lives," he spoke with tediousness.
PoVS
Moments later, Shintenmaru found himself lightly fingering the wound, lightly touching it with the face of his fingers, the taste of his palm. The low moans of the creature beneath the caring hands seemed to whistle out, almost happily. The tilting light of his healing that silhouetted his hands poured faint glows onto everyone's hopeful faces. 'Don't just look over my shoulder," Shintenmaru scolded. Many people seemed shocked, backed away, scared, almost. "Have you guys checked on the other backups?"
"Yes," came his answer from the confident voice of Hanabikai. "They're all fine."
"Then Sametsuki-kun was the only one targeted," Shintenmaru sighed, exasperatedly. It had been a tiresome day. Everyone knew it. They just couldn't believe they had to work overtime for the rest of the night. How tiresome this would get. Many cursed White Cloak at this moment in their mind, scowling at him with inside gestures of blood, of organ, of mind. "Was it just a random picking, I wonder, or was it something more?" No one knew; no one answered. "Hanabikai," he called his fellow teammate's name. Hanabikai stirred. "Go to Tsukansu. Hold him down. The wound's just about done," he instructed.
Hanabikai muttered a low "yes," and nodded, walked out. The clicking of his shoes was followed by the trailing eyes of the councils behind him. Soon his presence left, and the door remained wide open, a large mouth begging, beckoning to eat another, for it had not seen food in such a long time; it now needed, desperately, for someone to walk through its threshold of toothless decay and feed it, coming out the other end much too soon. "Be careful," Shintenmaru warned. From far away, everyone, somehow, sensed that Hanabikai had stopped, sighed, and nodded. Then, the walking had resumed, the clicking feet came back to entertain those who had a long night. "Someone," Shintenmaru began once again. He watched the glow of his fingers trace and sew the red cut closed with invisible thread. The cold-blue skin began to form back again, as if contracting and making the wound invisible, sending it to nothingness. "Get the Minors together; we need them to know about the current situation so we can further plan what to do."
"I'll go," Raikettei volunteered. He got up on his feet, stretched as if he had been sitting there for the whole day. He let out an exasperated sigh of relief, and felt the loose muscles tingle inside him. "I haven't done anything in a while," he said as he began for the door, the next meal. His robes dragged along behind him.
"That's fine," Shintenmaru instructed, mindlessly, as if he didn't know a clue about what he was saying yes to, what he was accepting. His eyes just seemed to drone on, attentively, at the wound, at the soft, starry glow of his fingers as they healed, as they repaired. The job would soon be done, he knew. He just had to give it some more time. More time was all it needed. More time.
PoVS
Raikettei walked through the halls, tiresome, bored. He was glad to get up on his feet again and do something for once. Ever since the Minors came into the Council's lives, he had done nothing, nothing of importance, of significance. Now, he was glad he was able to help – to get all the Minors together. However, such a thing would be awkward, it was possible. They barely knew him, and he barely knew them. However, that would not stand in the way – it would make no problem or obstacle whatsoever. He had to do his job, despite whatever feelings he had, good or bad – that's one of the many things he had to learn as a council. "What a troublesome night," he heard his echoes bounce back to him from the empty, dispersed halls. Darkness crawled around him, secretly, sneakily. He yawned, tired. His bald head seemed perfect, round, human. There was something about it that just shouted, "Mean!" or "scowl!" yet he was nothing of the sort. He was a kind, gentle man, if you took the time to notice, of course. "Just when I thought the day ended…" he droned on, talking to himself solely out of his own monotone misery.
All was silent around him – not a sound, not even a hiss of darkness, a crumble of wall. Somehow, hearing that White Cloak had successfully snuck into their dimension, being in the halls didn't seem right anymore. It just didn't seem… safe. That was all. But it was a mere emotion. Something to get over about. Emotions like a paranoid feeling in your home caused by a recent happening are bound to wear off, anyways. Again, it was nothing to worry about, nothing to nick your nails with your teeth about. Nothing to stare off into space about, to imagine about. No reason at all. "Let's see; where did Hanabikai said they were?" he asked himself, thinking back into his poor memory. "The hospital room? Of course," he got the answer, happy that there would be no interference any longer. "With Eric most likely." He continued to walk down the hall, turn the corner, a deep, recollected thought returning in his mind, forcing a smile. "I don't know what it is about that Fire Element…" Raikettei began to speak to himself. "Why do they seem to get along with everyone first?"
Turning the corner that led to another hall, there was a flash, a blur of darkness, of presence at the other end. Raikettei didn't seem to notice, and kept walking. As soon as he reached the other way to another hall, the dark blur came rushing again, the same time he passed it, like a reflection, a copycat of a window. Raikettei stopped speaking; he stared off to the corner of his eyes, which were darkly narrowed, secret. He was not nervous, he was alert. He turned the corner. Again the dark flurry of blur. A rush of wind. Who was it? Was it White Cloak? Was he back? For… for they-know-what? It wasn't possible. Could it? It wasn't necessarily impossible… but it wasn't much of a possibility either… wasn't it?
Then, walking down a long, respective hall, the blur came from behind him – he sensed it! Raikettei faded into nothingness in a second's notice, and the blur, finally caught up to where he was before, halted, froze his features. Raikettei came back, slammed the blur and smacked him on the head, forced him to the next wall. The body fell to the wall with a clatter, and Raikettei put his fingers to the person's heart. "You're dead," he declared. A burst of electricity emitted from his wrist. The person was short, was clothed in yellow and black, young – someone not White Cloak. Raikettei widened his eyes. He brought his threatening hand back to his side. He laughed, nervously at first. "No way…" he spoke, sounding the last few syllables with a long monotony. "Rick-san!" he cried out.
"Raikettei… you were hurting me," he said in a choked voice, the blonde boy taking deep breaths from the dispersing suffocation. He wiped his mouth, his chest. He swallowed – hard, as if to check for his soul, his presence of life, to see if he was alive.
"Oh, sorry," he apologized nervously. The two stood, looking at each other, watching each other, as if both were strangers from another planet, another time. This could've gone on forever. But Raikettei's tension from the long night broke it, fortunately. "Things have been getting a little paranoid lately around here," Raikettei explained.
"Oh?" Rick asked, interest piqued. "Why? What happened?"
"Well, it's…" Raikettei let himself trail off. He looked to the young boy's face that seemed so innocent, so child-like, that if you just saw his face, you wouldn't believe he was a teenager at all. Those innocent, broad eyes fooled you every time. He gulped hard; he didn't know if he could tell him. No, he decided. Not just yet. He'll tell them along with the other Minors. It's better that way. It'll look like he's playing favorites if he told him now. "Nothing; it's nothing," Raikettei said. He backed away from the boy and began to walk again. The Minor followed, like a little, helpless baby. "You're not too sneaky, Rick," Raikettei changed the subject. "If you want to get better, learn from Derek."
Rick scowled, as if angry, and sighed. Together, they ventured on towards the darkness, the broken halls that were eroded by darkness, yet still useable, still capable of guiding them all the way through life, through the deaths to occur and the saviors to experience. The only savior anyone knew at this moment was one person and one person only – Eric. One just had to wonder how he was doing; just how was this eighteen year old boy, one of the oldest Minors, doing? He sure proved his worth in battle, and as a person. What else was there? What else?